Learn to Fly
by Princess Persephone
Summary: They must learn to trust each other, unfold their wings, and break out of the chrysalis. How Blair and Chuck could have gotten together in season one. 1.09-1.10
1. Guess Who's Not Coming to Dinner

**A/N:** The dialogue in chapter one is taken almost completely from the show. Kind of lame, I know, but this will not be repeated to such an extent in this fic, and I really wanted to show Blair's feelings for Chuck while she and Serena have this conversation/argument. (A side note: Do you like the chapter title? Heehee. I do! First of all, I think I'm clever in a Gossip-Girl-episode-title kind of way, and also, it is relevant: Serena won't be joining the Waldorfs for dinner…and neither, as we all know (or should know) is Blair's beloved daddy).

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**Chapter One: Guess Who's Not Coming to Dinner**

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_And I have known the eyes already, known them all_—

_The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase_

—T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

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"I have to find this recipe before my dad gets here," Blair said excitedly, brandishing the recipe card box. She circled the kitchen island to sit on her stool.

"Harold Waldorf's famous pumpkin pie," Serena laughed, as she folded a napkin.

Blair paused from rifling through the recipe cards. "Well, it may have been Bobby Flay's, but that didn't stop my dad from taking credit for it," she said, grinning widely. "I can't wait to see his face when he walks in and the pie's already in the oven. It will be the best welcome home present! It's going to be perfect!"

She'd find the card, bake the pie (or supervise as Dorota baked it), and greet her daddy just as it came out of the oven. It would be perfect. How could it not be? Her father was finally visiting her—and it was Thanksgiving, her favorite holiday!

Thanksgiving had always been Blair's favorite holiday. Following immediately on the heels of her birthday, it was a special day where family got together and ate good food before the mad rush of the Christmas season. The trees were ablaze with color, waiting for the first snowfall, the air was crisp with autumn goodness, and she finally got to show off her new cashmere sweater that she'd gotten for her birthday. And this year's holiday would be even better than last year's. Blair just knew it. How could it not be?

She couldn't wait to see Daddy! It had been too long, and she was too much of a daddy's girl to not resent the long wait. The divorce had been hard enough (Blair didn't even want to think about it—how her parents' perfect marriage had been torn apart), but having her father live across the Atlantic was completely intolerable. This would only be the fourth time she'd even seen him since he'd moved out, and the first since he'd moved to France (Blair thought it was vaguely ironic that her divorced parents both spent so much time in the same foreign country—though for completely different reasons…).

"Look at you. Quite the chipper sous-chef," Serena said, folding another napkin.

"Well, I'm in a good mood. It's been known to happen," Blair replied, leaning forward and raising her eyebrows. Contrary to popular belief, Ice Queen B was actually happy sometimes. "Sometimes because I increase my Lexapro, sometimes because my dad's in town." Today, definitely because her dad was coming to town.

"And sometimes, mostly, because things are good with a boy," Serena commented knowingly.

Blair pursed her lips, not looking at her friend. She did not like where Serena seemed to want the conversation to lead. She did not want to talk about boys with Serena. It was difficult to talk about her imperfect predicaments when Serena's glowingly love-sick face smiled a foot away from her. Not to mention she didn't want Serena to find out about what she and a certain friend of theirs—er, hers—er, Nate's—had done recently…during her birthday party…when she was supposed to be feeling bad about everyone knowing about her very recent breakup with her long-standing boyfriend of nearly a decade…

"You and Nate get back together?" Serena asked.

"You mean since Gossip Girl published pictures of him and some skank?" Blair replied bitingly. Yeah, _that _had been the perfect birthday present. Just because she and Nate had broken up didn't mean it hadn't hurt.

"So that's a no…" Serena glanced at her friend. "What's Chuck doing today?"

Blair felt a cold bucket of panic douse her happy mood. This conversation was going from bad to worse. Was that an innocent question? Or did Serena know something? But how could she know? Blair hadn't told her. And she highly doubted Chuck had said anything to the golden princess who hated his guts. She'd have to treat this delicately.

"Why are you asking me?" she asked innocently.

Serena gave her a knowing look. "Well, you guys _are_ friends," she said, as if unable to comprehend why anyone (particularly, any girl) would want to be friends with, or even be acquainted with, Chuck Bass. "And Blair, look, you know you can tell me anything."

Blair bit her tongue in frustration. Sure. She could tell Serena anything. But if that was truly the case, then why had Chuck been the first person Blair had run to and told about her breakup with Nate? If she could tell Serena anything, then why had her best friend not been there when she needed her? God, Serena was never there when she needed her. First she left for boarding school without even saying goodbye, and didn't even call or text or email once, not even to check up or apologize. And where had Serena been when her best friend's parents were getting divorced? She certainly didn't think that the same rules applied to her—Serena didn't feel like she could tell everything to Blair: who had been the one to admit to what had happened during the Sheppard's wedding? Not Serena.

"I'd be the last person to judge anyone—"

"With good reason," Blair interrupted.

The look they shared was a power struggle.

"Blair, I saw you with Chuck."

Somehow, Blair had known that as soon as Serena had said "boy" she'd meant "Chuck."

God. She'd _seen_ them? What did that even mean? At her birthday party? Just kissing on the bed or… doing more? So much more. Blair felt herself flush at the memory of those orange bed sheets and Chuck groaning beneath her. And then he'd offered her a limo ride home from the party and it had started all over again… That had been three days ago, and Serena was just bringing it up now? Chuck hadn't even called her since then. What was wrong with her? Why had she allowed him to sweet-talk her again? Why had she listened? She couldn't even wholly blame him for taking advantage of her—she'd been the one to initiate the two kisses that had led to so much more. It was really her own fault…but she'd been unable to resist the temptation he'd offered.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she admitted finally. "I mean, sleeping with him once, maybe I could understand, but twice—?"

It had actually been more than just twice, if Blair was being completely honest. Sure, it had been two different instances on two different days (er…two nights in a row, really…), but they'd definitely gone more than one round in that bedroom during her birthday party. And the ride in his limo after had been a very pleasurable, educational experience. She'd never dreamed of what he could do to her with his mouth… And that first night in the limo after dancing on the stage at Victrola… Blair had always heard that the first time was painful and awkward and once was enough. But for her, it had been…exhilarating. They had fit in such a way, and it had felt so good, that once had definitely not been enough. And neither had twice. Or three times.

"Wait, you slept with him?" Serena screeched.

"Shh!"

"Ugh! Blair!"

"What happened to no judging!?" she exclaimed.

"I'm not, but I thought you wanted to wait, take it slow! I thought you wanted to make things special!"

Blair felt anger burn in her stomach. What, just because she and Chuck had done it in the back seat of his limo, that didn't make it special? The way he'd whispered "Are you sure?" had been special. The way he'd drawn her slip over her head had been special. The way he'd touched her and grasped her hips and groaned her name when he'd climaxed had been special. The way he'd held her afterward had been special.

The way he'd actually come to her birthday party and bought her the Erikson Beamon necklace and admitted to liking her and having butterflies had been very special. Much more so than her recent ex-boyfriend who hadn't even been bothered to call her at midnight, let alone even show up at her party.

Sure Blair had wanted to wait. But she'd changed her mind. And it had felt good. Both the changing of her mind and the experience itself.

And who even cared if she wasn't a virgin anymore? Honestly, Blair was glad to finally not carry the burden of never having had sex. She'd thought Serena would be a little more interested in the act, or wonder how it had gone, or be proud of her for finally doing it almost impulsively when it had been something she'd obsessed over for so long and had wanted to plan to perfection and even been a little scared of. She'd thought Serena might be even a little interested in that way where you're disgusted but can't look away no matter how much you want to—because that was definitely how Serena felt about all sentences that contained both the words "Chuck" and "sex." She'd thought "free-spirited" Serena would be somewhat understanding. What the hell had happened to the non-judgmental breakfast club? Serena had had more sex with more guys than Blair had fingers.

And why wasn't anyone blaming Nate? No one ever pointed fingers at him. He was too effing pretty, people always forgot he was in the wrong. Hell, even Blair looked over some (most) of his misdeeds when he'd give her that confused, innocent deep-eyed gaze from beneath his man-bangs.

Did Serena forget that just three nights ago—the same night she'd seen Blair and Chuck in the bedroom—Gossip Girl had published a picture of Nate and some blonde girl? When Blair had been waiting for him, ready to patch things up, prepared to give him a second chance?

Fuck. If he could move on, why the hell couldn't she?

"Oh, so Nate gets the free pass and I'm the slut?"

What a fucking double standard.

"Tell me you didn't sleep with Chuck for revenge," Serena winced, closing her eyes against what she expected Blair to admit to.

Blair was affronted. Was that the only possible reason Serena could imagine to explain why Blair had slept with Chuck? Blair might have been conniving and bitchy at times, but she'd never stooped to using sex as a weapon. And she knew Chuck seemed heinous and hardened and somewhat perverted to Serena, but he wasn't.

Not if he admitted to having butterflies.

God. What would Serena say if she knew Blair had slept with him because he was nice to her? Because he got her and she got him? Because he was a good kisser? Because he'd been there when no one else had and told her she was amazing and bought her a necklace from Tiffany's for her birthday? She'd never hear the end of the surprised, thinly veiled disgusted comments coming from Serena's mouth: 'Was she sure? Was she doing the right thing? This was Chuck Bass they were talking about.'

God. She did not need Serena breathing down her neck right now.

"Well, it wasn't because I like his natural musk," she lied.

Let Serena think she wanted revenge. If that was what her best friend thought of her… then let her think that. Serena and her "no judging" attitude was far from neutral—that stupid Brooklyn boyfriend of hers must be rubbing off on her.

"Besides," Blair added nastily, "nothing hurts more than sleeping with the best friend, right S?" If Serena wanted to play, then Blair would counter act every move she made.

Serena stared at her and then abruptly stood up. "Way to prove a point."

What the fuck? Did she honestly think she could bring up a sleeping-with-the-best-friend conversation and not expect to be burned? Especially with that non-welcoming, judgmental attitude she wielded so forcefully?

"Well I learned from the master," Blair said sweetly.

"If you're sleeping with Chuck, I'd say the student's become the master."

"What? Are you jealous?" Blair spat angrily. "You didn't get to sleep with him first? There ought to be somebody left on the Upper East Side."

There was a ringing silence between the two girls. Blair knew it had been mean, but she was feeling bitchy. Who was Serena to tell her to not put out, or to take it slow, or to avoid Chuck Bass? She didn't need anyone else telling her what to do. Her mother fit that controlling description well enough.

In fact... speak of the devil, and she doth appear.

"Blair, darling! Are you going to help me at all?" Eleanor's voice called out in the silence as she entered the kitchen. "Serena," she continued, "do you know when your mother's arriving?"

"She's not," Serena answered snottily, grabbing her purse. "We're not doing Thanksgiving here anymore."

"Oh? Why?"

"Because I uninvited them," Blair said sweetly. When she caught Serena's eye, the fake smile dropped from her face. She gave her a little wave, a clear dismissal.

Serena glared at her and then turned to leave. "Happy holidays, Eleanor," she said.

Blair simply gave her mother a _what?-don't-look-at-me_ face and then continued to search through the small box of cards for her father's famous pumpkin pie recipe.

Who cared about Serena? Blair didn't. If she wanted to leave, fine. Good. Thanksgiving would still be perfect. Blair would see to it.

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**A/N: **What do you think? Tell me in a review!


	2. Blair Waldorf Must Not Pie

**A/N:** I don't expect to update everyday...but I really wanted to get the second chapter up. Also: This chapter may be a little dark. But then, bulimia is a dark, serious thing. And while I've never known someone who has this condition, this is what I imagine ran through Blair's head when she stared at the pie in 1.09. But don't give up…hope arrives at the end of the chapter… :)

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**Chapter Two: Blair Waldorf Must Not Pie**

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_I shall foot it_

_Down the roadway in the dusk,_

_Where shapes of hunger wander_

_And the fugitives of pain go by.  
_

—Carl Sandburg, "The Road and the End"

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Blair walked into the kitchen and slammed the pie down on the counter, glaring at Dorota when she gave her a questioning look. The caterers quickly left the room with the maid, unwilling to bring the wrath of the pampered princess of the house down on their oh-so-easily fired heads.

Daddy wasn't coming. Eleanor had told him not to. Blair struggled not to cry as she fully realized she wouldn't be seeing her dad this Thanksgiving. The one thing she'd been looking forward to.

What the hell was her mother's problem? Lying to her about Daddy coming to visit? Keeping up the charade? Did she think Blair wouldn't notice when he didn't show up? What, that she'd just forget about his visit? Had she really thought Blair wouldn't find out what she'd done? Who the hell tells their ex-husband that his daughter is so angry she doesn't want him to visit? All that just so that Eleanor could avoid seeing him over Thanksgiving? How fucking selfish could she be? Her mother probably just wanted to punish Blair for not bothering to hide the excitement she'd felt as she'd anticipated her father's arrival.

Why was everything always about Eleanor? What right did she have to do such a thing? To make all the decisions? To control everything?

Glaring at the apple pie, Blair wanted to gag.

Her mother had sent her father's pumpkin pie down to the doorman. The pie Blair had worked so hard on in order to surprise her dad. That pie had been perfect, hand made, lovingly baked.

This fucking pie had been catered. And who the hell eats apple pie during thanksgiving anyway?

Blair wanted to throw it across the room, but the pie stayed where she had placed it on the counter, sitting innocently. Just a pie.

But it wasn't innocent. Her mother had deliberately taunted her with it. "Have some dessert," she'd said. She was just rubbing it in Blair's face: what she says goes, she makes the decisions, she can send her daughter from the table when she doesn't want to talk about certain subjects, she can separate her daughter from her ex-husband, she can disappear at a moment's notice to jet off to Paris, she can set all the unbreakable house rules, she can tell Blair what to wear, she can tell Blair when to study and what classes to take, and how long she needs to work out, and what jewelry to wear, and to put product in her hair because the ends were dry, and nothing and everything and everything that matters, she chooses everything she decides everything her rules are the rules—

No.

Eleanor didn't decide everything. She couldn't.

Blair was sick of everything being up to her mother. She was sick of being constantly critiqued and never praised and never consulted and never acknowledged. She was sick of having to work for everything when other people glided through life without a care in the world and wonderful things miraculously landed in their laps—and they took it all for granted when she deserved what they got. But she was also sick of fighting with Serena; of feeling envious and jealous and resentful when she should be supportive and happy. She was sick of Nate being so wishy-washy, one moment wanting to get back together, the next not even bothering to make an effort to find her at the masked ball or show up to her birthday party, one minute giving her his mother's ring, the next not being able to say 'I love you.' He never took action, she had to do everything. She was sick of being judged, even though her whole life was about judging others and finding them wanting and using their weaknesses to benefit herself. She was sick of not being perfect, of never being good enough, thin enough, pretty enough, nice enough, sunny enough, popular enough, smart enough. Never being the best.

She was sick of doing everything herself; she just wanted someone to lean on. But her father was still in France, and her boyfriend had broken up with her, and the boy who had butterflies hadn't called her, and she'd just kicked her best friend out of the house. Even Dorota had fled the room. Blair didn't have anyone.

She was sick of everything. God, why was her life so fucking messed up? She missed her father. She wanted normalcy. She wanted something she could control.

She knew she shouldn't do it. But the pie was just sitting there. Taunting her. Like her mother had.

Blair remembered when her mother had found out about the bulimia. It had only been at the end of last May, the spring of sophomore year. Truthfully, Blair had been doing it for years. And no one had even noticed. Nate certainly hadn't found it strange when she would excuse herself to go to the bathroom and take a little longer than usual. She had only stepped up the visits to the bathroom after Serena and her father left and everything went from shiny perfect fairy tale life to empty Queen B position with no best friend, no father, and an unsatisfying (and unsatisfied), distracted boyfriend. The trips to the bathroom had gone from weekly appointments to purges every other day. To every day. To after almost every meal. Being so careless had gotten her caught. The running water couldn't muffle the sound forever.

Now she had therapy every Tuesday afternoon at four. Her friends all thought she took piano lessons.

While the throwing up was rather disgusting and sometimes painful, it felt good. Sure, she was shaky afterwards and pale and the taste in her mouth wouldn't leave for hours, but she didn't care. Along with the food she'd stuffed herself with went the hate and worries and imperfections that clouded her mind. She purged herself of everything inside until she was empty. Until she was beautiful. Until she was perfect.

Blair knew everyone thought she was better. But the truth was, she wasn't. Sure, she didn't do it as often as she once had… but that didn't mean her acquaintance with the toilet was any less of a friendship. Fantasizing about purging herself of everything was oftentimes enough.

But then there were times like these where she couldn't take it anymore.

Control became everything.

The fork was cold in her hand and broke open the top of the pie, violently stabbing a hole in the center. Right in the middle, the place everyone knows is never deliberately eaten from. The sacred, pristine part. Well, Blair wasn't a virgin anymore. Why should the pie be one? She wasn't playing by her mother's rules. She played by her own rules. She was in control now. This was one thing her mother didn't have power over. And Blair knew that if her mother knew what she was about to do, it would hurt her.

Good.

She knew it was wrong. The words from her shrink were echoing in her ears, but she couldn't stop. Not now. She was too close.

Blair stabbed some apple slices and raised the fork to her mouth, ready to gorge herself.

Her phone buzzed on the counter.

It lay there, a foot away, where she'd accidentally left it when she'd found the recipe card. And then she'd forgotten about it after she'd finished baking the pumpkin pie with Dorota. It kept buzzing, loudly, against the tile, rattling a nearby spoon. Someone was calling. She stared at it for a moment, fork in midair, frozen. She couldn't seem to move. Then, quickly, she grabbed it and, without looking at the screen, pushed the answer button and brought it to her ear.

"Waldorf," came a familiar drawl.

Her heart skipped a beat and then started thumping twice as fast.

"I know I'm not one to actually call a girl after a, let's say, intimate interlude, but as it's Thanksgiving, I was feeling generous. Just try not to crow too loudly about what a wonderful holiday you're having, because it won't take much to beat my lousy excuse of familial love. I know even you have a heart today, so try to find it and take pity on me."

Blair's fingers grew limp and relaxed their grip on the fork. The utensil slipped from her hand and dropped. She watched as it fell in slow motion, turning over in mid-air, an apple slice detaching and the whole mess hitting the floor, the bit of pie with a plop, the fork with a loud, echoing clang.

She tried to breathe, but her lungs weren't cooperating. A burning, swelling rush filled the back of her throat and nose and ended behind her eyes, which filled with tears.

"Hello?" Chucks' voice called, a bit perplexed. "Blair?"

"I'm here," she croaked.

There was a pause.

"Are you okay?" he asked, at once knowing that something wasn't right. His tone was completely different from his first greeting. She could almost see the furrow in his brow.

"I…" She couldn't go on. Her throat had closed up. God, don't cry, she told herself. Her body shook as she stared at the mutilated pie. It was disgusting, obscene. The center of it was broken open like a brutally murdered, innocent animal. The smell was making her stomach turn unpleasantly.

God, she had almost…

Her hands started to shake.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, his voice a soft murmur. "Do you want me to come over? I can be there in ten—"

"No," she choked out, backing away from the counter, her eyes still locked on the pie. If she stayed there another minute she'd scream. Or throw up. And not on purpose. She had to get out of the kitchen. She had to get out of her house. "Are—are you at the Palace?"

"Yeah—"

"Okay," she cut him off quickly. "See you soon."

"Blair, what—?"

But she had already hung up.

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Reviews = Love :)


	3. The Suite Life of Chuck and Bart

**A/N:** My favorite chapter so far! Tell me what you think!

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**Chapter Three: The Suite Life of Chuck and Bart . . . er, nope, just Chuck**

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_Doubtful, for quite a while_

_Not knowing what to feel or if I understand_

_Or whether wise or foolish, tardy or too soon..._

_Would she not have the advantage, after all?_

—T.S. Eliot, "Portrait of a Lady"

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Chuck didn't know what to think.

When he'd finally gotten up the courage to call Blair, he'd envisioned a snarky, smiling princess greeting him, blushing about their naughty sexcapades and gushing about how wonderful her daddy was and how perfect her Thanksgiving had been so far. He'd never dreamed that he'd reach a quiet and croaky girl choked with tears, obviously upset, who jumped at the chance of joining him in his suite in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner.

Who was she and what had she done with Blair Waldorf?

It had taken him three days to call her. He knew that was a long time for any girl to wait for a guy to call, especially a girl like Blair. Hell, he'd wasted no time in trying to get her attention before. The day after their first limo ride, he'd tracked her down in the morning, offered breakfast, bought her a necklace that cost a small fortune, tried to talk his best friend out of getting back together with her, crashed her birthday party, revealed the truth about Nate's feelings for her, admitted that he liked her, and staked another claim: both with putting that necklace around her neck and by taking her once more…first when she'd ridden him on that orange-sheeted bed and then later when he'd used his mouth on her in his limo.

He knew that not calling wasn't working in his favor. It probably seemed to her that he didn't care, that he'd just gotten what he'd wanted: to sleep with her again. But the truth of the matter was… those effing butterflies were freaking him out.

He'd never felt this way about anyone before. No girl had ever affected him like this. And for it to be Blair Waldorf of all people merely made it all the more complicated. Falling for his best friend's girl? True they were broken up… but it'd been, like, what? A few hours before he and Blair had fucked in his limo the first time?

It made him feel jittery with nerves and excited at the same time. What the fuck was wrong with him? What had Blair done to him? He'd never felt his way before. He couldn't get her out of his head. He could barely sleep, or eat, or think about anything without thinking about her. Or without thinking about how he was betraying his best friend by secretly seeing—and texting, and crushing on, and buying expensive presents for, and making out with, and undressing, and touching, and fucking—his best friend's ex. He'd debated over calling her for hours on end over the two previous days, tossing his phone back and forth, scowling at his reflection in the mirror.

Chuck Bass wasn't indecisive. Chuck Bass didn't worry over what a girl thought about him. Chuck Bass did what he wanted and screwed the consequences. Sometimes literally.

He'd finally called her because there was the slim chance she'd be at dinner and not pick up. Then at least he could tell himself he tried and it wasn't his fault if he missed her.

Except, she had picked up.

And now he was right back where he'd started.

What was wrong? She sounded like she was about to cry on the phone. What could have possibly upset Blair so much? Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday. Had something gone horribly wrong? Normally he'd expect her to get snarky or huffy if some detail didn't match the décor or if the food was late or if someone canceled last minute; anger and frustration and lip-curling disgust he could deal with. But Blair had never been one to cry. She was like him in that respect: she took it hard, took it all, and always came out on top, even if she had to claw her way up and fight dirty to stay there. The way she had sounded on the phone, though… it had not been a normal Blair reaction. He'd never heard her so choked up. And she'd agreed to come over to his suite? What was she smoking? ...Though he certainly wasn't going to complain.

Chuck waited at the door, peering through the eyehole every now and then. He didn't want to seem like he was waiting for her, pacing back and forth behind the door, even though that was exactly what he was doing. But she didn't need to know that. He already felt like enough of an idiot.

Just when he'd checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time, and looked through the eyehole yet again, and was reaching for his phone, debating whether he should call her, even though it was probable that the holiday traffic was holding her up (they did live in New York City, and it was the middle of a national holiday, after all), he saw her. She was walking down the hall to his door.

His first thought was that she wasn't wearing a coat, just a party dress, a pair of patterned tights, and a little sweater shrug that was more for style than an actual piece of useful clothing. Hadn't she been freezing outside? It was the end of November for Christ's sake.

And then, about ten feet from the suite, she stopped walking and simply stared at the door. Chuck thought for an insane second that she could see him, or sense his presence, or hear him breathing on the other side of the door, that she knew he was there waiting. But that was foolish.

Blair swallowed and turned around, about to start back down the way she'd come. But Chuck was having none of it. He threw the door open and took a step out, ready to call her name when she abruptly whipped around. Their eyes locked and he saw her face properly for the first time. She'd been crying.

"Blair," he breathed.

And then she was heading toward him and, before he could blink, she had thrown herself into his arms. She clutched at his shoulders, gasping into his neck, her tears starting once more in a rush. Chuck held her loosely for a moment, unsure what he was supposed to do. Crying females were not his forte. But as the sobs shook her small frame, his arm tightened around her until she was enveloped in his embrace. He'd never held someone like this, never comforted someone in pain; the act was foreign to him, but Chuck couldn't help but like the way she fit in his arms and the way she clung to him for support. Drawing her into his suite, Chuck softly closed the door behind them and simply held her as she cried. He didn't offer words of comfort, partly because he didn't know what was wrong, but also because he knew that anything he said would only sound trivial compared to the tangible support he could offer with his presence.

And so he held her.

Her sobs eventually died down to the occasional hiccup but she didn't seem to want to let him go. He knew she was probably a little embarrassed and that was why she was hiding her face in his neck; Blair Waldorf never broke down or let the world see what was behind her regal bearing. But he didn't mind that he'd been privy to her pain; he'd been privy to so much already that this was just the next step, or at least he hoped it was. And he was glad she'd chosen him to help her—she could have just as easily called Serena about whatever it was that was wrong.

Chuck slowly pulled away and guided her to the sofa, his arm still around her waist as they sat down. He didn't say anything, just waited for her to start when she was ready.

Blair was self-conscious and rather uncomfortable under his gaze as she reached for a tissue to dry her face. Crying in front of Chuck Bass? Throwing herself in his arms? What was wrong with her? It was strange to act so humanely in front of someone she'd always been a little wary of. But at the same time she had to admit that she and Chuck were in many ways the same. And he always seemed to be there for her, whether to scheme plots of revenge, give her tips on controlling the girls at school, or help her through whatever family or friend or boyfriend-filled crisis lit the day. In fact, now that she thought about it, she had actually been spending more and more time with Chuck before any of this sex-and-butterflies stuff, thanks to Serena's unexplained absence sophomore year and Nate's evasiveness since then. She and Chuck had never really moved beyond friendly partners in crime, and deep emotions were never fully voiced, so this crying in his arms was a new thing. But while she'd been rather taken aback when he'd simply held her and not said anything trite or forced, she wasn't really that surprised. She knew Chuck could be serious when he chose to be.

And if what he'd said at her birthday part was anything to go by, he cared about her. At least enough to buy her a killer necklace and keep pursuing her—even after he'd already gotten under her skirt.

Butterflies were powerful things.

She sighed and leaned forward, holding her head in her hands. She owed him an explanation. But there were just so many things that were wrong.

"My dad didn't show up for Thanksgiving," she finally whispered, trying to steady her breathing. "My mom told him I didn't want him to." She swallowed. "And I got in a fight with Serena. And…" Blair sat back and looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the tears that were starting to well again.

How could she tell him? Did he even know? _Should_ she tell him? She had to tell someone. He'd been the one to stop her after all, albeit unknowingly. God, she still trembled just thinking about what she'd almost done.

"Do you remember that time at Kati and Iz's Valentine's Day party freshman year?" she asked quietly. "When you…walked in on me in the bathroom?"

There was a pause. "Yeah," came the soft response.

"Well…" Blair took a breath. "It wasn't food poisoning like I said. And I wasn't sick. I…I was—I used to—"

"Blair," he interrupted gently, his grip on her waist tightening. "It's okay. I know."

Her eyes traveled the room, not seeing anything fully but looking at everything but him. "What do you mean, you know?" she asked faintly. How could he possibly know? Even Nate didn't know.

"I knew back then, too," he replied. Shifting his weight and running a hand through his hair, Chuck let out a sigh. "Blair," he said, moving so that his face was closer to hers, trying to get her to look at him. "Did you…today?"

Her throat swelled and she fought back the tears, closing her eyes. "I was about to eat an entire apple pie right before you called," she whispered.

"Good thing I called," he said, brushing the tear that had escaped off her cheek with his thumb. His voice held a sad smile, but she could tell he was completely serious. His hand shifted until he cupped her cheek, turning her face more fully to his.

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze, and Blair felt like she could finally breathe easier. She brought her hand up and covered his, and an unnamed emotion passed quickly over his face. Blair felt a watery smile tug at her lips and she ducked her head. He leaned forward until their foreheads rested together and let out a sigh.

Chuck's calm presence next to her was such a change from her ex-boyfriend. It was strange to think how different he and his best friend were. If she'd gone through this with Nate, it would be completely different. For one, he didn't even know about her issues with bulimia. He would have insisted she stay at her house until he met her, and then when she cried he would have mumbled meaningless words of comfort in her ear. He would have been supportive, but… He wouldn't even have known what was so wrong. So her father hadn't shown up—call him, have a talk with her mom. So she had a fight with Serena—call her, bond over something girly, go shopping. What else could be wrong?

No matter how much she'd always dreamed of Nate being her white knight, he just…wasn't.

Blair felt something inside of her shift. Why did Chuck always seem to be there when she needed someone? Why did Nate always seem to be preoccupied with something else and distracted? She knew Chuck lived in the moment and all, but did he have to pay such close attention to her? God. Why did Chuck seem to get her so easily? He hadn't even said anything beyond "Good thing I called" and he didn't even need to—she felt completely calm and soothed. She was glad she'd turned to him.

Maybe…maybe those butterflies meant something. Maybe it was a good thing that she and Nate had broken up and Chuck had been there to pick up the pieces. Maybe it was good that they understood each other so well. Maybe the fact that he liked her wasn't so bad.

Blair stroked her thumb against his hand and asked with a broken laugh, "How was your Thanksgiving?"

She felt Chuck stiffen slightly before he pulled away, his hand dropping from her face. He tried to play his reaction off nonchalantly, but she could tell something was wrong. He leaned back into the couch and stared at the opposite wall.

"Bart had a meeting over dinner with some guys from Boston—in Boston," he said, shrugging. "So, I had an early breakfast and then watched the parade."

Blair's brow furrowed. "Wait…I thought—the parade doesn't even pass by here," she said.

"I watched it on TV," he said.

Blair felt a strange pang run through her at these words. "Chuck," she said, "we live in New York City. The Macy's Day Parade is two blocks from here on Broadway. Why didn't you just—" she broke off, suddenly realizing. "Do you always have Thanksgiving with your dad?" she asked.

Chuck glanced at her. "Well, usually Nate invites me over, but this year…" he paused for words. "With all the stuff with the Captain, it's just him and his mom, I think."

He didn't have to say any more. She completely understood. Yet another abandonment by his father, his best friend not including him or seeking support… She laid a hand on his arm. He blinked and dropped his gaze from hers, but he didn't pull away.

God, they were exactly the same. How had she never noticed it before? No wonder he'd been able to calm her down and listen so easily and know exactly what to say—he basically knew how she felt. She squeezed his arm, once again thinking how glad she was that he was the one she'd gone to. She was glad that he'd called, not only because it had brought her back to reality and stopped her from making a horrible mistake, but also because he'd _called_ her. After sleeping with her. She hated to admit it, but not hearing from him after her birthday party had been one of the reasons she hadn't told Serena sooner about her and Chuck, and also why she hadn't revealed more when Serena had questioned her earlier that very morning.

"Chuck," she said softly after a moment, "Serena knows about us. She saw us at my birthday party." Blair bit her lip. "That's why we fought today."

He swallowed and nodded, but she could tell he was surprised. "And what did Princess Serena have to say about your scandalous secret?" he asked, somewhat defensively.

Blair pursed her lips. "She thought the only reason I'd sleep with you would be for revenge. Sleep with the best friend…" She paused. It hadn't struck her till now, but it was all rather ironic: Chuck was privy to the Nate/Serena scene at the Sheppard wedding and Serena saw the Chuck/Blair interaction at the birthday party. Best friends all around, it seemed. "And she said she'd always thought I'd waited because I wanted it to be special." She felt him stiffen next to her. "And, then I realized," she continued, squeezing his arm again gently, "that it _was_ special."

Chuck met her eyes and she could see the emotions swirling deep within them. And she realized it really had been special, and they were fooling themselves—she was fooling herself—when she tried to say otherwise. Blair leaned in, vaguely thinking that she always seemed to start these things, and hesitated, her mouth inches from his until he met her halfway and their lips brushed in a sweet, chaste kiss. Unlike their other hotter, hungry, lust-filled kisses in his limo and at her birthday party, this kiss was different; it seemed to hold the promise of something, something that made Blair's heart beat faster. Shifting their bodies on the couch, their mouths met again, and Blair couldn't help but raise her hand to cup the back of his neck, drawing him closer. Yes, this kiss was definitely different, but just as good as the others. Chuck's arms wrapped around her waist and he gently broke the kiss, leaning back so that they simply lay on the couch, hugging. She'd never taken Chuck for a hugger, but then, she supposed there was a lot that seemed to be changing, and most of it for the better.

She snuggled into his side. They lay like that for awhile, simply holding each other.

"So…do you want to do something tonight?" he asked, breaking the companionable silence easily. "Go out? Or do you just want to order in?"

The words could have been taken as a usual Chuck Bass smarmy remark, but his tone was completely devoid of teasing.

Blair's eyes glittered as she sat up, straightening her sweater-shrug. "Do you have someplace special in mind?" she asked, inwardly smirking at the incredulous look that crossed Chuck's face before he swiftly covered it with a nonchalant raised-eyebrow.

"Are you really willing to be seen in public with me, Waldorf?" he asked.

She smiled and stood up, holding out a hand to help him up off the couch. "I'm game if you are."

He took her hand and got up. Blair's breath caught in her chest at the intense look in his dark eyes. "Then let's get going, shall we?"


	4. Dial S for Serena

**Chapter Four: Dial S for Serena**

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_(But our beginnings never know our ends!)_

—T.S. Eliot, "Portrait of a Lady

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Blair woke with a smile on her face, her eyes fluttering open. Stretching slightly, she let out a contented sigh—until she realized she wasn't alone in bed. Blair sat up and stared. An arm lay across her stomach, an arm attached to the sleeping boy next to her, the _naked_ sleeping boy next to her: Chuck Bass. He let out a soft snore and his arm tightened around her waist, as if even in sleep he could feel her starting to slip away.

Staring down at his dark head on her 500 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, Blair's stomach flipped. They had slept together last night. Again. She felt like every time they did it got better and better. Blair flushed at the thought, but couldn't deny how true it was. Chuck seemed to anticipate her every wish and know exactly what to do. While she'd always imagined sex to be something special and glorious and beautiful, she'd never known it could be so perfect. Especially with someone she hadn't considered a Prince Charming.

However, Chuck seemed to be proving her wrong on all accounts. He'd been unbelievably helpful on Thanksgiving and hadn't even protested when she'd gone home early to talk to her mom. He'd even listened when she'd called him on the phone later that night and told him about the conversation with her mom and how Eleanor had been sad to sign the divorce papers. Chuck had salvaged her Thanksgiving just like he'd salvaged her birthday.

But she didn't know what to do. Blair liked to think of herself as knowing exactly what to do in every situation, of being wise in the ways of the world, and not needing advice. But the truth was, she'd only ever been in one relationship with the same boy for years. Having a rebound was something Blair was completely unfamiliar with. And having something that seemed to be _more_ than just a rebound…now,_ that_ was something even more foreign to Blair. What she had with Chuck was definitely more than just a fling—they'd known each other too long for it to even be considered in the same category. She wasn't sure what to call what they had. And she wasn't sure what to do.

She knew they couldn't just announce their _whatever-they-were_ relationship blatantly to everyone. She didn't know how Nate would feel about it—well, Blair guessed she _did_ know how Nate would feel, and it wouldn't be a pretty sight. Ex-girlfriend and the best friend… Even though their relationship had been flailing and fading and falling apart for such a long time, what with misunderstandings, self-involvement, and dissatisfaction, Blair knew that even so, Nate would be hurt to realize that two of his closest friends had gone behind his back and hooked up. It certainly felt like betrayal sometimes and she certainly felt guilty sometimes. Not like cheating guilty, but more like…well…guilty that her decisions would hurt Nate because he was a friend…and that she had to sneak around in the first place. She certainly didn't owe Nate anything—she'd tried to make their relationship work and nothing she'd done had been able to glue the cracks together. Nate didn't love her, he was busy with family, and he didn't seem to want to fix it. She didn't owe him. She could do as she pleased.

And Chuck pleased her. Very much. She'd never thought that his crooked smirks and dirty jokes and hungry dark eyes would cause her mouth to go dry and her heart to beat faster…but they did. He made her feel beautiful, wanted, regal.

Last night had been wonderful, actually going out on a real date—even if she _had_ gotten mad at him halfway through their meal at the restaurant. It hadn't been her fault, no matter what Chuck said—that trashy waitress had lingered a little longer than necessary when she delivered Chuck's scotch and Blair had definitely seen her slip him a napkin with her number scrawled on it. True, when she'd come out of the restroom and seen that little bitch trying to chat him up, it probably hadn't been her smartest move, yelling in Chuck's face before storming out the door. But Blair was beginning to learn that make up sex was one of the best things about fighting. And she was sure, given how both of them had an insatiable lust for revenge, winning, and power, that there would be many more arguments and many, _many_ more hot bouts of making up that involved no clothes. God, and they'd "been together" _how _long?

He'd even slept over last night, which was a first. True it was only three days since Thanksgiving (or four really, since it was morning now), and only six days since her birthday party, and only a week since their first kiss in the back of his limo… but waking up in his arms and seeing him in her bed in the light of day made her stomach do funny things. It kept flipping around, all fluttery inside—

Wait. It was morning? It was Monday! They had school!

Blair let out a shriek and leapt from the bed, grabbing her robe and slipping it on before turning back to the bed, where she saw a befuddled and sleepy Chuck blinking back at her. He yawned and sat up, the sheets falling to his waist, showing off his lean, broad chest. It took all of Blair's self composure to keep her eyes fixed on his face and not let them wander down to where the sheet lay on his lap. She glared at him instead.

"That's not usually the reaction I get when a girl wakes up next to me," he smirked, stretching his arms lazily and leaning back against the bed's headboard. The sheet slipped down a few inches, baring more stomach to Blair's eyes.

"Chuck," she said. "You have to leave."

"What, no good morning?"

She gave him a no-nonsense look. "We have school," she said bluntly, tightening the belt of her robe.

He shrugged. "Ah, school. Your domain and throne, my queen. Are you so eager to go back?" He raised an eyebrow seductively. "Why go to class when I'm already here, in your warm bed?"

Blair snorted. "Despite what your enormous ego believes," she countered, heading to the bathroom, "not every girl goes to Constance just so she can have the thrill of spying your handsome face everyday. There are such things as grades and clubs and college to think about."

"So you're saying I'm thrilling and handsome?" he asked delightedly.

Blair rolled her eyes in exasperation, unable to think of a come back in her present state.

"I'm sure I can teach you a few things that you won't learn in school," he called, the laughter evident in his voice.

"We're late Chuck!" she retorted, starting to brush her teeth. After finishing, she stuck her head out of the bathroom cautiously, in case he was changing, but she only found Chuck still in her bed, leaning against the headboard in the exact position she'd left him in, playing with her sleeping eye mask, which had been lying on the bedside table.

"Chuck!" she cried, storming back into the room. "Seriously! We have school!" She picked up his discarded clothes that were scattered on the floor and threw them in his lap. "Get dressed and hurry up! You need to leave! You have to get to the Palace to get a uniform!"

"Kicking me out already?" he asked good-naturedly.

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. "Get dressed," she repeated, heading back to the bathroom, grabbing a uniform from her own closet and shutting the bathroom door behind her.

Once Blair was finished with her toilette and dressed save for her accessories (all done in record time), she returned to her bedroom, relieved to see Chuck mostly dressed, pulling on his socks, his shirt half buttoned.

He met her eyes across the room and grinned. "Good enough for you?"

"Not quite," she said, opening the drawer in her bureau that contained all her headbands. "You haven't left yet."

"Don't I at least get breakfast?"

A knock sounded on the door.

Blair froze.

"Must be my lucky day," Chuck said.

"Dorota!" Blair cried, slamming the headband drawer and twirling around to face Chuck, who had stood up from the bed and was looking at her curiously. Blair stalked over to him and pushed him to the door. "You're lucky my mom leaves early for work," she breathed into his ear.

"Yes, I am," he said easily. He turned around and caught her forearms in his hands. A more thoughtful expression passed over his face as time seemed to slow, the seconds stretching. "I'll see you later?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers. Blair felt her whole body burst into flame under his scorching gaze.

She loved it.

Nodding jerkily, Blair opened the door, and Dorota was confronted with two teenagers instead of the customary one. She gripped the breakfast tray and stared at Blair.

"Thanks for the homework tip, Waldorf," Chuck said at once, the lie slipping easily from his well-used tongue. "But don't tell anyone I was over. They'd never let me live it down, knowing that Chuck Bass actually does his AP Psych homework."

Blair gave him a forced smile under Dorota's watchful gaze. She didn't even take psychology. "Any time, Bass," she said sweetly. "You can pay me back later."

His eyes narrowed and he nodded once, his lips pursing. Blair felt a shiver of desire run down her spine. She hadn't even meant it in a sexual way…but the knowing look in his eye, and his fierce game face instantly caused her blood to heat. God! He was so…_Chuck_.

He flashed her a smirk and swept out the door. Blair met Dorota's inquiring eyes and raised her eyebrow, daring her maid to voice a question.

"Chuck just needed some help with homework," she said. "That's all."

"Yes, Miss Blair," Dorota said meekly.

Blair nodded, satisfied that Dorota wouldn't ask questions or mention the incident again. She stepped aside and Dorota entered the room, setting the breakfast tray on the bed.

"Breakfast," Dorota said. "I glad you up already. You late, Miss Blair."

Blair sat down on the bed and popped a grape in her mouth. "Yes," she admitted easily, as if she didn't care. "I'll need a cab to get to school on time."

Dorota nodded and went to go inform the doorman to hail one.

Just as Blair started tucking into the croissant on her plate, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Not bothering to look at the screen, assuming it was Chuck, Blair answered at once.

"Hey," she said lightly.

"Hi, Blair," came the slow response.

Her lips parted. Serena. Fuck.

It had been three days since Thanksgiving and they hadn't talked yet. She felt a little bad about that. She could admit it: she'd been mean—or at least, meaner than usual. Being a bitch was something Blair was used to, but after she and Serena had patched things up after Ivy Week, she'd downplayed her public persona in front of her best friend. And she was sure Serena hadn't been expecting a reminder of her sordid, cheating past on Thanksgiving.

Blair moistened her lips. "Oh. Hi," she said.

There was a pause.

"Um…how are you?" Serena asked.

"I'm okay…" Blair answered, pulling her croissant apart. Jeez, the tension was killing her, especially after the wonderful weekend she'd had with Chuck. She let out a sigh. "Look S," she said, "I'm sorry about Thanksgiving."

"Blair—" Serena protested

"I shouldn't have said what I did," Blair admitted, cutting her off. It was true. She'd been catty and defensive; she'd been unwilling to admit that what had happened with Chuck had been more—and meant more—than Serena had assumed. "But I don't like it when you say you won't judge and then you jump down my throat," she added.

"Yeah," Serena said softly. "I'm sorry too."

Blair was glad, but she knew she needed to say more.

"Serena?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't tell you about Chuck—or about Nate's and my break up—because…you're so happy with Dan," Blair admitted in a small voice. "It's hard not to compare myself to you." Serena sounded like she was about to say something but Blair plowed ahead. "And…the reason Nate and I broke up…was sort of because of you."

"Because of me?" Serena squeaked.

Blair sighed, lying down on her back. It still hurt to think about it. "At the masked ball you and Jenny switched masks. And Jenny told me that Nate thought she was you. And instead of asking for a clue to find me, he…told her he wasn't over you and—he kissed her."

She could hear Serena's gulp over the phone. "Blair, I—"

"I know," she said quickly. She did know. Serena hadn't done anything to encourage him; she was happy with her new boyfriend, even if he was from Brooklyn. "I—I know. But Nate…it just wasn't working. No matter how hard I tried, he never really seemed interested in starting over. He likes you…and he only wanted to try and work things out on my birthday because his dad wanted to keep the deal with my mom."

"I'm sure that's not true," Serena insisted. "Nate cares about you. He just…" She sighed. "I think he just feels disconnected. With everything. And neither of you are in sync. You guys never really talk. And all this stuff with his dad must be really hard…"

"Yeah," Blair said with a sigh.

She was sure it was. But she was done with Nate. He hadn't been able to tell her that he loved her, and obviously didn't need her help, since he hadn't confided to her about the problems with his dad. Serena was right: they were disconnected. And no matter how much Blair had always wanted a fairy tale ending, she knew that Nate was not her Prince Charming, even if he looked like one. She actually was relieved, like she'd confessed to Chuck at Victrola the night she and Nate had broken up. The weight of a splintering relationship was finally off her shoulders. She didn't have to try so hard now. And she was done worrying about Nate's half-hearted commitment. With Chuck things were different. For once, she wasn't the pursuer: he was. It was strange to think about, but she liked it. In fact…

"S, there's something else," she said softly.

"What?"

"I—I didn't sleep with Chuck for revenge," she said. Blair took a breath, her heart pounding. "I…I like him. At least, I think I do." There. She'd finally admitted it.

There was a shocked silence.

"You like Chuck Bass?" Serena asked in a strangled voice.

Blair bit her lip a little bashfully. It did sound absurd. Everyone knew Chuck was a womanizing man-whore who left girls broken hearted and only had one-night stands. Nothing serious. But with her things were different. It was time to admit it. She could tell just from the way he looked at her.

"I have it on good authority that he likes me too," she said.

There was another shocked silence.

"He said that?" Serena whispered incredulously.

For some reason Blair fought back tears as she smiled widely. "He said he had butterflies," she whispered back, her heart pounding at the memory. "Or—well, that his stomach was fluttering, at least."

"So you make him sick?" Serena asked, bemused. Her dazed joke seemed to be the only thing she could think of to say in light of the bomb Blair had just dropped. "Only Chuck would find that romantic."

"Serena," Blair warned.

Her friend laughed. "I can't believe it!" she squealed. "You and Chuck!?"

Blair knew what she meant. It seemed unthinkable…but at the same time, completely obvious. They were so alike. Why hadn't she seen it before?

"What about Nate?"

The question seemed to reverberate in Blair's head. God, she didn't even know.

"Have you guys—"

"We haven't really talked about it," Blair said. "I mean, Chuck and I haven't talked about it. Nate is—" She sighed, a pang of dread rolling through her stomach. "It's complicated. And, I think it might be too soon, still. To announce everything. Or anything. Chuck and I just hooked up."

"Yeah, but if you guys are actually serious…" Serena said, her tone relating how crazy she thought the situations was, "and if you're…_sleeping_ together…more than once, which is, like, unheard of for Chuck..." Serena paused, either finally fully comprehending that Blair and Chuck weren't just fooling around or else trying to erase the picture she'd just conjured for herself. "Blair, the sooner Nate knows, the sooner you don't have to be sneaking around." She took a breath. "Believe me, as much as I dreaded it, and as much as it hurt, I was actually relieved when you found out about Nate and me. Especially after coming back from boarding school…I could finally start over. And hiding stuff is hard."

Blair nodded, even though Serena wouldn't be able to tell over the phone. "Yeah… But this isn't cheating. I mean, Nate and I are broken up. I'm free to move on. And so is he." She could feel Serena bristling on the other end of the line. "And I get that they're best friends," she said quickly. "Which is why it's complicated." Way too complicated. "But…I dunno though…sneaking around with Chuck is kind of fun."

"Blair!"

"What?" she asked innocently. "It is."


	5. The Girl Who Knew Too Much

**A/N**: This chapter takes place four days after the last chapter (last chapter was Monday morning, this is Friday night).

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**Chapter Five: The Girl Who Knew Too Much**

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_All men by nature desire knowledge. _  
—Aristotle

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Jenny was a little uncomfortable. It wasn't everyday she sat in a limo with her Queen B and former potential date-rapist.

Of course, it hadn't been just them at the beginning. On the way to the party everyone (or at least everyone who mattered) had ridden in Chuck's limo. And when Blair had offered to be her ride (probably to keep a close eye on her, Jenny was sure), she'd actually been relieved: one less taxi to pay for, one less geniusly devised subway route to plan out. And the ride there had been fun, everyone laughing and drinking champagne and gossiping about sophomore Leslie Rothschild and her Gossip Girl outed affair with her 25-year old math tutor. (What a slut!) And the party had been a blast. It was just that, somehow everyone had found different rides home: Nate went off with his lacrosse buddies; Kati and Iz got picked up by Kati's cousin, who was still in town; Penelope, once she saw Nate wouldn't join them, caught a cab, taking Hazel with her; Tiffany and Amber had disappeared with Mark and Greg…

And so Jenny found herself being driven back to Brooklyn by Blair and Chuck—Blair because she wouldn't take Jenny's weak "You don't have to…" for an answer, and Chuck because…well, it was his limo. And apparently none of the girls at the party had been hot enough for him to bother setting his sights on (i.e. take them home with him to debaucher and seduce as only Chuck Bass could). But Jenny was extremely thankful for this small, out of the ordinary turn of events: it would have been even more supremely awkward with her, Blair, Chuck, and his whore/flavor-of-the-night in the backseat.

Oh how joyful were the little things in life.

She'd been lucky to even warrant an invite and be included on the list of the Hunter-Bergman brother party. The twins, Orion and Oliver Hunter-Bergman, two seniors at St. Jude's, always threw an early December party to start the month off with a bang. As far as they were concerned, as soon as Thanksgiving was over, Christmas began, and Christmas was just an excuse to party, hit on girls, and party some more. This year was doubly special, too—it was their last month to enjoy before they had to stress over early college acceptance letters.

Jenny was still a little surprised that Blair had accepted her return. Getting back into Blair's good graces had seemed an impossibility after the Masked Ball fiasco: when Blair said a Project was "done for good," she meant it. But after chickening out during Blair's birthday party (although Nate had been a welcome distraction, it was true), Jenny had sucked it up. She'd approached Blair and apologized for sneaking into the ball—and for the horrible news she'd discovered about Nate's feelings for a certain blonde siren they all knew.

And Blair's response to her teary-eyed "I'm sorry"?

"I normally don't hand out second chances, Little J, but for once I'm actually going to make an exception. Even though you crashed the Masquerade Ball, it proved…enlightening, to say the least," she'd said, with a flip of her hair. "Consider yourself on parole."

Jenny had hardly been able to believe her ears.

Or her eyes. Where had the shocked, angry Queen B gone from before, when Jenny had told her the horrible truth about what happened at the ball? Blair seemed to barely remember her crestfallen, teary-eyed reaction. She was...lighter, bouncier. More prone to smile. Ready to play. And definitely giving off an odd glow. Jenny had hardly ever seen the girl she sought to emulate looking so…happy. There was no other word for it.

Apparently Nate was old news? Either that or they were back together… Although if they were back on, wouldn't Gossip Girl have already dished? Secrets were never kept that long on the Upper East Side.

Unless there was someone else…?

Whatever. The facts still stood: after being welcomed back to the Projects of the Girls of the Steps, and attending the first big party of the holiday season, she was now stuck in a limo with Chuck and Blair.

Awkward much?

"Um…that was a good party," she said, breaking the silence. "Orion and Oliver really went all out. The music was so good! It was so fun! And I've never had such good sushi befo—" She cut herself off, realizing too late that Blair's birthday party had been Japanese themed. What the hell was wrong with her? And really, couldn't she think of a better adjective than "good"?

Blair and Chuck, sitting across from her along the side of the limo, smiled matching Cheshire cat smirks.

"I didn't know you were acquainted with the double O's," Chuck drawled. "For a freshman, you certainly do seem to…get around."

Jenny avoided his gaze. This was the first time Chuck had spoken to her all night. She was sure he hadn't forgotten their two memorable run-ins: the first where her brother planted his fist in Chuck's face and the second where she'd locked him out on the roof. And if Jenny wanted to keep her newly regained statues as Project, she had to watch every step she took. Even if it was with Chuck Bass. Blair was watching, after all.

"Um…No, I don't know them personally—" Jenny started.

"Glad you had a good time, Little J," Blair said easily.

Jenny knew what that meant in girl-speak: "Be glad I let you come. Don't mess up or you'll find yourself out faster than you can say 'Queen B.' And I'll make sure you never get invited to another 'good' party ever again."

Jenny smiled weakly back at Blair.

"Yeah, thanks," she said.

Just then the limo rolled to a stop. Finally! Brooklyn, sweet Brooklyn.

"Well," Jenny said quickly, jumping up from her seat, "I'll see you guys later! Bye!" And with that Jenny was out the door.

She'd only gone a few steps to her building before she realized that she'd left her purse in the car. Whirling around, Jenny breathed a sigh of relief to see the limo hadn't moved yet. She opened the door, eyes focused on the seat where her purse lay, and bent down, placing a foot inside the limo. She reached to get her bag.

"Sorry!" Her eyes lifted apologetically to the two on the opposite side of the limo. "I just forgot my—"

Jenny's mouth dropped open.

Blair and Chuck were lip-locked in a passionate embrace. The Queen B was straddling the Boy Devil's lap, pressing him against the seat. Her dress was pushed up high on her thighs and her headband was askew. One of his hands cupped her ass, the other was buried in her hair, angling her head during their deep, tongue-filled kiss.

At Jenny's words, both looked up to see the little Brooklynite gaping dumbly at them, eyes wide in disbelief. There was a second where time stood still, all three staring. Jenny couldn't seem to move. Chuck looked incredibly surprised at the interruption. Blair's mind was whirling a mile-a-minute. Then time sped up again. Before Jenny could shut her mouth, let alone grab her purse and run, Blair had already swung down from Chuck's lap and snatched the bag that was inches from Jenny's fingertips.

Jenny met her dark gaze and suddenly felt powerless. She wasn't even recovered enough from the sight she'd stumbled upon to even laugh inwardly at the smudged lipstick covering both Chuck and Blair's faces.

"Get in," Blair commanded harshly, righting her headband.

Jenny didn't argue. She got in. She supposed she could have let Blair keep her purse and run—but where was the logic in that? Not only would she look like a spineless little worm from Brooklyn, but she'd have to face Blair sooner or later about this if she did run (and Jenny bet it would have been sooner rather than later: Blair wouldn't let a secret like this acquire any risk of escaping her tightly clenched control).

When the door slammed shut Jenny gulped, the bang seeming to sound her imminent doom. She sat back in her seat across from the couple. They were the last two people she'd expect to ever find in such a compromising position. It was unreal. Had they been planning it? Anticipating her exit so they could…do what they'd been doing? Blair and Chuck? Chuck and Blair?

What the fuck?!

"You are not going to tell anybody about what you just saw," Blair said, her voice sickly sweet to mask the underlying edge of steel. "In fact, you're going to forget about it—"

"Blair—" she tried to cut in.

"Nuh!" Blair made a slashing motion with her hand. "Did I say you could speak?" Her nostrils flared in outrage.

Jenny snapped her mouth shut. The width of the limo suddenly seemed very wide and she couldn't help feeling like a guilty grade-schooler. She'd only just gotten back in Blair's good graces, and now this? Why did every secret always seem to gravitate towards her? She was like a freaking magnet. She didn't want this information…well, not if she couldn't use it to her advantage. And Jenny wouldn't. This time. Not when it involved the combined wrath and retribution of both Blair _and_ Chuck, the two most well-versed, conniving schemers on the Upper East Side.

"You're still on parole, Jenny," Blair continued, her voice harder than before. "I will ruin you if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone."

No shit.

Jenny couldn't help but notice that Chuck's arm was around Blair's waist. He didn't speak, but kept his eyes trained on Jenny in an unnerving stare. Seeing the two of them sitting there before her, so in tune with each other, after being caught _making out_ hot and heavy in Chuck's limo, now as cool as could be… Jenny's lips parted in sudden understanding.

Blair Waldorf was Queen B. Undisputedly. But Nate had never even been her Prince, let alone King of Constance and St. Jude's. He'd been too easy to manipulate and wasn't one to offer a challenge. For all his handsome looks and popular friends, Nate wasn't Blair's equal. He was a tool, not a king. No, that title had belonged to Chuck Bass. From the moment he'd stepped foot on school grounds he'd known how to wield his power. He was shady, ruthlessly dangerous, loved to play games, and knew everything about everyone. Blair was his perfect match, Queen of the Met Steps. They complimented each other perfectly. Jenny never would have paired them together before, but…now it made so much sense. She wondered why she—or anyone for that matter—had never seen it before.

Though she was a little frightened about what this meant for the rest of them. Blair and Chuck on the same side, united? No one would ever stand a chance against them.

At least for now it was all a secret…

"As far as you're concerned, you came to the party, we drove you home, end of story. Nothing else happened. Right, J?"

Jenny met Blair's eyes. She nodded.

"Right, Blair."

* * *

"Are you worried about her?" Chuck asked.

The limo was moving again, Jenny finally having left with Blair's approval. He didn't know why he'd let Blair talk him into being the ride for everyone tonight. When she'd asked at first, he'd thought it would be just them, and though the idea had been a little dangerous (what if someone asked why she'd come with him?), it had been tantalizing, too—way too good to pass up. So he'd said yes. But he hadn't envisioned having to pick up ten plus people, or driving all the way to Brooklyn to drop Little Vajayjay off to her cozy, warm little loft apartment with her tight-knit brother and loser-rock-star daddy dearest.

But anything for Blair, right?

"Jenny Humphrey?" Blair asked flatly, giving him an _are-you-kidding-me?_ look. "Please. I can take care of a freshman. She may have had upstart ideas before about playing the system, but she's been humbled. She knows her place." Blair's eyes narrowed. "Jenny will do anything to stay a Girl of the Steps."

Pursing her lips, Blair felt the unsettling sensation she always got when someone else had power over her. She hated not being in control of the situation, but Jenny Humphrey being the one with the power was even more insufferable. Blair met Chuck's dark-eyed gaze.

"If she ever tries to use this against me—or you… well, we know how to deal, right?"

Chuck smirked back at her, nodding. He drew her closer, his arm tightening around her waist.

"Yeah, we do," he agreed, nuzzling her neck, the idea of future revenge turning him on just as much as the girl sitting next to him. Jenny had interrupted them, and Chuck Bass was one who liked finishing what he started. Especially when it involved a certain doe-eyed brunette.

The rest of the limo ride involved wet kisses, breathy moans, and eager groping, just the way Chuck liked it. They arrived at Blair's pent house much too quickly for his taste, but when she grabbed him by the tie and pulled him into the building (first making sure no Gossip Girl informers were lurking nearby), he didn't complain.

Stumbling out of the elevator, Blair pressed him up against the nearest wall, a little harder than she meant to—his head banged against the marble. She buried her face into his neck in apology and sucked greedily.

"I didn't know we were playing rough," he said huskily, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head as her lips played over his skin.

"All you have to do is ask," she giggled, leaning up to capture his lips.

He'd only begun to appreciate how good she felt in his arms when the loud sound of a throat being cleared made him lift his head. Chuck quickly dropped his hand from Blair's breast and froze in her arms. She looked at him curiously before glancing over her shoulder.

"Mother," she said, immediately stepping away from the boy she had only moments before been embracing. "I didn't know you'd still be up."

Eleanor didn't say anything, merely tilted her head to peer at them over her glasses.

"Chuck was…he was just walking me up." The words sounded lame, even to Blair. Walked? Hello, elevator. But she was caught off guard—for the second time that night! How much was she supposed to take? And then there was the fact that it was her mother staring at her across the foyer, the one person who never failed to cause a wave of second-guessing and low self-esteem in her daughter.

"Yeah," Chuck said, breaking the awkward silence. He was out of his element. He'd never dealt with this type of situation before: being in a secret relationship with a girl he desperately liked and wanted to make a good impression on her parents, people he'd known for years. Hell, he'd never even wanted to meet the parents of any of the girls he'd been with before. Chuck looked at Blair for a prompt but she was still staring at her mother. "Um…since Blair's home now, I guess—I guess I'll just go…" he trailed off uncertainly. He felt a little bad about leaving Blair to face her mother alone. But what could he do? "Uh, bye, Mrs. Waldorf." And with that he ducked back into the waiting elevator, the doors closing off the scene in front of him—the scene that he knew was just about to start, if the look Eleanor had been giving Blair was anything to go by.

Eleanor closed her eyes as if she had a headache and took her glasses off. "Charles Bass?" she asked hoarsely, as if the very name was horrifying. "Blair, I know you and Nathaniel broke up, but—"

"But what, Mother?" Blair interrupted loudly.

Eleanor's eyes snapped open at Blair's tone and she matched her daughter's glare. "Isn't this rather sudden?" she asked pointedly. "It's only been a few weeks and you and Nate have been attached at the hip for years." Eleanor pursed her lips. "Besides…that Bass boy is nothing but trouble. Even _I_ have heard stories—"

"Well, if _you_ have heard stories, then he must be a _horrible_ person—"

"And while his father tries," her mother continued, raising her voice over Blair's sarcastic interruption, "no one will ever forget how _nouveau_ that whole family is. He's completely unsuitable, Blair. What can you possibly be thinking?"

"Maybe I've been thinking that I like the way he makes me feel," Blair let out before she could stop herself.

There was a pause.

"Are you drunk?" Eleanor asked bluntly.

"What?! No!"

"You were at a party—it wouldn't be the first time…" she trailed off suggestively.

"I am not drunk, Mother!"

"Well your judgment must be impaired if the behavior I just witnessed was both voluntary and encouraged," Eleanor snapped. Blair blinked, trying to ignore how dirty her mother made it sound when they'd just been kissing.

"You don't even know him," she said softly.

Eleanor sighed. "Blair, just promise me that you'll think about it seriously before becoming involved with that boy."

Blair choked on her answer, unable to even verbalize how offended she was—for herself, and for Chuck. Setting her jaw, she merely swept passed her mother and stormed up the stairs to her room.

Who was her mother to tell her who to date? And how could she say such things? Eleanor was friends with Bart…and she was _still_ hung up on the fact that he was self-made instead of born to his billions? Was Chuck really that bad? Sure he'd been a womanizer since middle school, but thing were different now. And her mother had never objected when he was just a friend, hanging out with her, Serena, and Nate—but now that he was…well, _more_…she found him completely unsuitable?

Blair took her shoes off and threw them at her closet, half in ire at her mother, half in frustrated desire, not even caring if her new Prada's were damaged. Chuck had gotten her blood going multiple times that evening, and they'd been interrupted—twice! What were the chances? What a rotten Friday night.

Sighing, she slumped on her bed and checked her phone, hoping Gossip Girl had gotten either more dirt on stupid Leslie Rothschild or something else that would at least take her mind of the recent events of the evening. But she was greeted by a text the moment she opened her phone.

"Is everything ok?" Chuck's text read.

Blair's bottom lip moved forward into a pout. She lay down.

"Fine," she texted back, halfway hoping he'd believe her and leave her alone.

A moment later, she was surprised to feel her phone vibrate with an incoming call. Sure enough, from Chuck.

"Hello," she answered wearily.

"Don't try to force on me the same bull shit you feed your minions," he said immediately. "I don't buy it." When she didn't reply, he sighed. "Blair…what really happened?"

Blair rolled her eyes, but was secretly pleased that he could see through her. He was one of the few who could. "She just warned me away from you, like I expected. 'What are you thinking? What about Nate?' blah blah blah. She only acquires the vestiges of maternal concern when it suits her." Blair tried to shove it off. "Public image is everything on the Upper East Side," she said brightly. The thought seemed a sad one. "I should know," she said.

"Blair."

"Okay, so maybe not only when it suits her…" Blair shook her head. "She told me to be careful."

"Careful?" He sounded as if he'd never heard the word before. "I wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I seem to remember the trail of broken hearts you've left all over Manhattan…and some of the lower boroughs," she said wryly.

"Be careful, B. You sound like a jealous girlfriend," he teased.

Blair's lips parted. "You wish!" It was only after she'd said it that she realized they'd had this conversation before. Only back then, the roles had been reversed.

There was a slight pause, as if Chuck had realized the same thing.

"No, you wish," he returned softly, continuing the echo.

"Please, you forget who you're talking to," she said. She bit her lip. It was more than a teasing game now. It had been since she'd vehemently denied being jealous.

"So," he started, his voice husky with emotion, "do you…do you _like_ me?"

She could hear his breath catch on the other end of the line.

Blair fought back a smile. "Define like."


	6. The Legacy, the Bitch, and the Waldorf

**A/N: **This is **two weeks after the previous chapter**, in the middle of December. Also, there's a bit of dialogue from the show. Just so you know. :)

* * *

**Chapter Six: The Legacy, the Bitch, and the Waldorf**

* * *

_For when my outward action doth demonstrate_

_The native act and figure of my heart_

_In compliment extern, 'tis not long after_

_But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve_

—Shakespeare, Othello, Act 1, scene i

* * *

Blair hurried down the hall, shifting her bag on her shoulder, for once not surrounded by her perpetual crowd of minions. Kati and Iz had history and Serena was stuck in economics this period. Social studies were in a different wing than the sciences, so Blair found herself walking to second period alone most days.

Just as the warning bell sounded, a hand shot out of an empty classroom and grabbed her arm. Choking on a yelp, Blair stumbled through the door and found herself pressed against a wall, a bright-eyed, dark-haired St. Jude's boy standing in front of her. Chuck leaned in without preamble and caught her lips in a hot, deep kiss. He didn't even start with something slow and soft, just dove right in, as if they'd been making out for half an hour already. All thoughts of the periodic table and electron clouds and gas laws flew out of her head the moment his lips touched hers. Blair felt herself relax against him, her mouth moving hungrily against his. Just as his tongue entered her mouth, turning her legs to jelly, Blair's bag slipped from her arm and landed on the floor with a loud smack, bringing her back to her senses.

She pulled back and gave him a look.

"What? Not happy to see me?" he asked, smirking.

"Chuck, this isn't the time," she said, drawing away and picking up her bag. "I have to get to class."

"Please. Don't tell me you don't enjoy it," he said. He lowered his voice. "And I'm pretty sure we've both skipped before." His smirk became more pronounced. "Why, just on Monday—"

She met his eyes and he broke off, full out grinning. Blair knew he was trying to tempt her with the tantalizing memory of their hot tussle in the fourth floor's janitor closet that she'd participated in so enthusiastically on Monday. It wasn't going to work, though. She wouldn't let him manipulate her.

"Yes, well," she said, pursing her lips, "that was then." And he was right: they had missed class on Monday. Two periods! And she'd even been late to lunch by a hair's breadth. While as Queen B she could wave things like that aside when questioned by the Girls of the Steps, Blair didn't want to run the risk of it happening again. If you're sloppy, you get caught. She knew this. And she wouldn't let it drag her down. "Besides," she said, smoothing her skirt. "Mr. Peizer will be furious if I'm late. I have AP Chemistry right now—"

"Our chemistry is hotter than anything you'll learn in class," he said, leaning in to kiss her again.

She pushed him away, trying not to laugh. "Are you even listening to yourself?" she asked. When he gave her a look, she narrowed her eyes. "I'm serious, Chuck."

"Well so am I," he said. His face softened and he brushed his thumb against her bare arm. She tried to repress a shiver. "I miss you," he whispered. "I've barely seen you all week."

She raised an eyebrow. "From what I remember, you saw quite a bit of me on Monday."

"Well, that was on Monday," he said huskily, his eyes locked with hers.

She flushed but couldn't help smiling. "You saw me this morning," she said. "At the Prescott Dance Studio. Before school." The junior class had arrived early to practice their dances for the upcoming Cotillion.

"It's kind of hard to give you the attention you deserve when you're on the other side of a crowded room," he replied.

Blair relaxed against him, feeling like a sun had just burst in her stomach. He missed her.

"I know it's a Friday, and you might be shocked, but my schedule is actually clear for once," she said. "So…you can come over after school if you want."

"What, am I just something you fit into your schedule now?" He lifted his chin in mock outrage.

Blair chose not to answer that and instead looked up at him through her eyelashes. "My mom's not home," she said softly. They'd been avoiding her house ever since Eleanor had caught them after the Hunter-Bergman party. "She went to Paris on Wednesday. So we can—"

"Do you mean to tell me you've been all alone in that empty penthouse for two whole days and this is the first I've heard of it?" he asked incredulously.

"I've been busy," she insisted, thinking of all the errands she'd run and planning she'd done for Cotillion. She couldn't wait for Sunday night. She tilted her head in a challenge. "Are you coming over or what, Bass?"

"What, am I your bitch now?" he asked.

She gave him a sweet smile. "Well, you _are_ a bitch when you want to be."

He smirked back. "And _you_ can be bitch enough for both of us." It almost sounded tender with the twinkle in his eyes. He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

Once again, Blair found herself caught up in his kiss. She gasped as he pulled her closer and drew a trail of kisses down her jaw to her ear. His breath was hot against her neck and she clutched at his arms, her bag once again lying forgotten on the floor.

She hooked a leg behind his, their hips pressing flush together. He let out a soft chuckle in her ear. "I don't mean to complain, but I thought you didn't want to be late?" he breathed.

Blair abruptly broke away, giving his chest a push. She grabbed her bag and huffily shoved the door open, stalking away from his laugh.

"Get to class, Waldorf," he called.

She was glad her back was to him, because she didn't want him to see her smile.

* * *

While sneaking around school and making out secretly was exciting (not to mention educational: they had discovered an increasing amount of interesting hiding places in the building), Chuck had to admit that what he was doing at that very moment was what he'd been craving all week long. Settled between Blair's legs on her bed, sucking on her neck, his body pressed against hers, one hand on her thigh, the other in her hair, hearing her gasp and sigh in his ear without any fear of discovery.

God, this was the life.

He'd never thought he'd want to be tied down to one girl. Being a boyfriend? The very idea of Chuck Bass in a relationship was laughable, absurd. But with Blair…everything felt right. He couldn't seem to get enough of her: her smiles and frowns and laughs, the way her skin tasted, the way she moaned when he touched her, the way she pretended to be disgusted by him but secretly was amused, the way she seemed to understand him just by meeting his eyes sometimes. They'd been…well, "seeing each other" secretly ever since Thanksgiving. Chuck knew that Serena knew, and sometimes he caught her giving them knowing looks at school. And now Jenny knew too, which could be a potential complication, if she didn't follow Blair's rules…and if they wanted to still keep their relationship on the down-low.

But honestly, he was tired of being Blair's dirty little secret. He knew it was complicated. He knew there was a good chance that Nate would never speak to him again if—more like _when_—he found out. He knew he'd lose half of the rep he'd been building since middle school. But he didn't care. Blair was…

It was scary to think about how fast he'd fallen.

And now he wanted more. Cotillion was on Sunday. He had a date, and so did Blair. But that didn't mean he didn't want to go with her. He wanted them to be official. He wanted everyone to know who Blair had picked. He wanted everyone to know he had a girlfriend. He wanted to prove society, his father, his friends, everyone wrong. He wanted Blair.

"You looked pretty hot on Prince Theodore's arm this morning," he said, punctuating his words by grinding his hips into hers. Blair let out a soft moan that caused a shiver to run down his spine.

"Is that all I am to you, an accessory?" she simpered.

He pulled back. "On him, yes." Chuck grabbed her hips and rolled them over, so that she was on top. "On me you'd be so much more." He tried to ignore the way his heart started thumping at the thought of them being official—she would be so much more with him—he already _was_ so much more with her. He didn't know why he'd never seen their potential before.

"Yeah, but I can't be on you, remember?" she said, adjusting her straddling position and leaning down to meet his lips, her dark curls falling into his face. "We don't want Nate to find out." Blair sat back up and he followed, reminiscent of when they'd been together on that bright orange bed at her birthday party. Blair smiled at the way he followed her for a kiss.

"Besides, you have to learn how to behave yourself, first," she giggled, remembering their conversation at school that morning.

"Obedience training, huh?" he said, his hot breath on her neck again. Blair tilted her head back in pleasure. "Will I have to wear a leash?"

She bit her lip as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth. "Only if you're very, very bad," she moaned.

"And if I'm very, very good?" he gasped, his lips hovering under hers. Blair leaned down and kissed him hungrily. Chuck's arms tightened around her waist and his tongue quickly invaded her mouth, his kiss demanding. Blair was melting above him, and just as he slipped a hand under her shirt and Blair was about to help him remove it, she heard Dorota calling her from downstairs.

"Miss Blair! Mr. Nate for you!"

Both teenagers on the bed let out frustrated groans, the mood completely ruined. Nothing like an ex to kill the vibe. Chuck fell back against the pillows. Blair sighed and slipped off the bed, frowning.

"What do you think he wants?" Chuck asked, watching as she fixed her hair in the mirror.

"I have no idea," she said, replacing her headband. She met his eyes and Chuck felt his heart skip a beat. She gave him a small smile. "I'll be right back."

And she left the room.

* * *

Blair started down the steps, irritated at the interruption. It was like Chuck had said—they'd barely seen each other all week, what with Cotillion preparations and conflicting schedules. They were so busy with Christmas coming up. But she'd missed him too. And they'd only discovered how well they went together three weeks ago, even though it felt like much longer. Every time she was with Chuck her life seemed like it was on fast forward. But she'd known him so long and he knew her so well, and they just felt so _good_ together…so right.

And now, just when things had finally been starting to get hot, Nate had to come and ruin it.

Spying her ex-boyfriend in the foyer, she trudged down the last few steps. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could go back upstairs.

"What are you doing here, Nate?" she asked, her frustration barely masked. And then she got a good look at his face and paused.

"Well I, um…" Nate swallowed. The look on his face was one that Blair had only ever seen directed at herself a few times—more often than not it was aimed at Serena. He was nervous and…passionate. "Look," he said, "you know, after rehearsal this morning, I just…I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Blair blinked in astonishment. What?

"I mean, the ball's something we've talked about doing together since we were like ten years old."

Yeah, she definitely remembered playing Cotillion a few hundred times in grade school.

"And, I know we broke up. And I know it's complicated, and that I've given you every reason to hate me." He gave her an imploring look.

"True," Blair admitted. All the sheepish stoned smiles, dreamy looks at Serena, and commitment issues were a little hard to forget. Not to mention the fact that he'd cheated on her with her best friend, hadn't seemed to even want to try and start over, wasn't in love with her anymore, and hadn't shown up to her birthday party. But if he was apologizing, who was she not to listen? "Keep going," she prompted.

"And the Prince…he's uh…you know. He's a great dancer and all…" Nate trailed off, his eyes boring into hers. "But I know you Blair. I know how much Cotillion means to you. Do you really want to go with someone you barely know?" He swallowed. "Is there any chance you'd go with me instead?" he asked. "For old time's sake?"

Blair let out a breath. Seriously? After all this he wanted to try again? Now? Blair felt her frustration rise. "Nate," she bit out, a little harshly. "After what you pulled on my birthday, the only thing we should be doing together is moving on."

He blanched a little. "Yeah, I know," he said quickly. "I just…" He sighed and let out a little laugh. "Look, I haven't worn this sweater in forever," he said, "and I, uh, I just pulled it out today and," he rolled back his sleeve, "I found this."

Blair's lips parted and she stared at the little golden heart attached to the wrist of his sweater. "My pin," she said softly. "I—I sewed it there so you'd always have my heart on your sleeve."

There was a small pause. God it sounded so stupid when she said it out loud. Had she really been so blindly romantic? He probably hadn't even noticed it the first dozen times he'd worn it.

He smiled. "I know." He gave her a badly masked calculating look, trying to play innocent. "I figured you might need it back, or something, if…?"

Blair's eyes jerked up to his. 'If...?' what? If she was thinking about giving that pin to someone else? Like she'd ever do that—it was a stupid, sentimental gesture that she was embarrassed even thinking about… And who would she give it to? Chuck? He'd probably laugh in her face. But at least then she'd get a reaction; when she'd given it to Nate, he hadn't even cared enough to ever mention it—

Wait. Was he… No. Blair blinked. Nate Archibald was _not_ trying to play her right now. Impossible. Did he seriously think he could manipulate her into going to the ball with him? Some apology! And some ex-boyfriend. Didn't he know that no one could out-maneuver her? She wasn't called Queen B for nothing.

Blair felt herself settle into her game-face, composed mostly of dominance and the desire to win.

She held out her hand. "Okay."

Nate's lips parted in surprise. "Um…" He blinked. "Are you sure?" Quickly recovering, Nate fumbled with the pin, ripping it out of his sleeve. "Of course, sorry. Yeah, um, okay, here."

He placed the pin in her hand.

"Thanks," she said. When he didn't say anything further, just stared at the pin in her hand, she took a step back, about to turn around and head back upstairs if that was all.

"Blair," he burst out, catching her arm. "Will you think about it, though? Going to Cotillion with me?" Her eyes met his. Nate licked his lips. "For old time's sake? Just say you'll think about it."

She gave him a smile. "Fine. Okay. I'll think about it."

* * *

Reviews = Love :)


	7. How to Lose 2 Guys in 2 Days

**A/N:** Yes, a little angsty now. Hope they seem in character. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Seven: How to Lose 2 Guys in 2 Days**

* * *

_No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;_

_Am an attendant lord, one that will do_

_To swell a progress, start a scene or two,_

_Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,_

_Deferential, glad to be of use, _

_Politic, cautious, and meticulous;_

_Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;_

_At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—_

_Almost, at times, the Fool._

—T. S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

* * *

Chuck sat down on the bed, watching the door. His stomach hurt. Or maybe it was his heart. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that, like always, Nate took the easy road while he was stuck in the shadows.

He was fucking sick of it.

He put his shoes on.

Blair took that moment to walk into her room. His eyes jerked up to hers and she faltered a step, startled at either the fact that he was getting dressed or at the look in his eyes. Then, regaining her stride, she moved over to her vanity. Away from him. To her jewelry box.

"A love pin, huh?" His voice was hoarse.

Blair blushed. Chuck wanted to be sick.

"You heard that?" she asked.

As if she didn't know.

He gave her a scathing look.

Blair tried to smile and shook her head. "I know it's stupid. And childish. But Nate…" She trailed off, uncertain what she wanted to say.

But he could guess what she meant.

"Ah, yes. Dear Nathaniel," Chuck spat out.

Nate, who could never make up his fucking mind...Upper East Side life and Dartmouth, or screw his trust fund and head to USC? Nate, who always wanted what he couldn't have...Blair or Serena? Nate, who just that morning had pretended to deny being interested in Blair again—he'd pointed out her lightness, how different she was, her "less-Blair-ness," and wondered if she was seeing someone else. He'd made eyes at her across the dance studio, unwilling to admit his regret in breaking up with her. At the time, Chuck hadn't been able to stop himself from feeding the flame, noting in his neutral-best-friend-opinion that she did "seem to have a certain glow about her recently." He'd inwardly smirked at his and Blair's little secret, and Nate's befuddled, starry-eyed wonder at the girl who'd always been there, right in front of him. The girl that Chuck had always been able to see.

But Blair was actually going to consider Nate's lame invitation to Cotillion?

Chuck could feel the jealousy ignite.

"It seems like his invitation is more alluring than mine." He let out a self-derisive chuckle. "As everything seems to be with him compared to me," he added bitterly.

"What?" Blair looked at him in confusion. When had she ever taken Nate over Chuck before? When had Chuck ever offered for her? "Chuck, I took back my pin—"

"And promised to think about going to Cotillion with him."

"Yeah," she said slowly, raising her eyebrows. "Think about."

"So you admit you're thinking about it."

"Wha—"

"About going with him?" he demanded.

Blair blinked, unsure as to why he was making such a big deal out of it.

"You're giving him another chance?" he continued. "After everything he's done to you? Need I remind you of the long, drawn out disaster that was your relationship with Nate? How he'd forget your anniversary and gaze at your best friend. Until the Sheppard wedding, when they finally screwed on a barstool—"

"I remember, Chuck," she said loudly, trying to drown out his words. It still hurt, even though she'd thought she was over it. Especially when he put it like that. "Do you think I can forget something like that? Sometimes I still look at Serena and…" She glared at him. "I doubt I'll ever forget it."

"Well, obviously you have, if you're actually considering going to Cotillion with him," he bit out.

"Nate asked me as a friend—" she started defensively.

"A friend, right," Chuck sneered. "A friend who tries to guilt you into remembering happier times with a stupid little love pin—"

"It's not stupid!" she cried vehemently, ignoring her earlier dismissal of the pin.

This was what she'd been afraid of. She knew Chuck wouldn't appreciate it. She'd been stupid to even entertain the thought that he would.

"I gave it to Nate the first time I told him I loved him." Chuck's face seemed to grow pale, but Blair hardly noticed. "And for your information, my relationship with Nate was more than just downward spirals. Why do you think we were together so long? I'm not a complete masochist," she said snootily. "But then, I doubt someone like you could ever understand something as intimate as love—"

"Oh, right," he spat. "Because clearly 'someone like me' has no feelings what so ever—"

"I never said that!" she cried hotly. "I know you have feelings—lust is a little hard to ignore when you're standing behind me and it's pressed up against my ass."

Chuck gritted his teeth.

Right. Because that was the only thing he ever felt about her. Lust. (Love? There was no such thing.) That was all he was. A cock. A good fuck. Nothing more. Chuck Bass was one-dimensional. The only thoughts in his head were about partying and fucking girls. And Blair Waldorf was just the flavor of the month. Right. That was all. A particular flavor that he couldn't get the fuck off his mind or the taste out of his fucking mouth.

His eyes were dark. "I'm not going to apologize for wanting you."

"I'm not asking you to."

"And you can't deny that you don't want me," he said quickly. "We were on your bed not twenty minutes ago, my hand up your shirt and you moaning in my ear—"

"I'm not saying _that_ either," she said flatly. "I'm just saying that I doubt someone who has a harem of whores at his beck and call would be able to truly understand the meaning of love."

Chuck stared at her for a moment, unable to believe his ears. She swallowed uncertainly, but the stubborn look didn't leave her face.

It was true, though. Even after they had both admitted that they liked each other, after he'd been there for her during Thanksgiving, after they'd slept together multiple times—no matter how good they fit together or how many times he made her laugh or how right it felt, the question remained. Could she really trust him? Could she give up her control and surrender her power? Could Chuck Bass ever really put someone else before himself?

Blair felt like she was in a whirlwind. Why was everything suddenly so serious? Awhile ago they'd been making out as-free-as-you-please on her bed, glad to have some alone time. And now she was bringing up love? What was wrong with her? She knew he liked her—but Chuck Bass had never liked anyone before. Not like that, as far as she knew. But love? They'd "been together" for three weeks. Why the hell was she even talking about love? Was she crazy?

But he didn't have to be so freaking mean about her love pin. So she'd given it to Nate, so what? She'd just taken it back.

"Sorry," he sneered sarcastically. "I forgot I was a robot. Thank you so much for reminding me—"

"You're acting more like a child than a machine right now," she interrupted, exasperated over his absurd behavior. "What I had with Nate was special, despite how it ended, and I know—"

"'You know' what Blair?" he cried, spreading his arms out. "I thought it was over. You said you were relieved—"

"I was," she broke in. "I am—"

"Two weeks ago you said you liked me," he said. "How am I supposed to believe that when the second Nate appears, you run after him like a lovesick puppy?"

Her lips parted in shock. "I did not!" she cried.

"Didn't you?" he asked wildly. "We're about to fucking do it and as soon as he dings out of the elevator you're ready to run downstairs—"

"I did not—"

"'Oh, Natie! How are you? I feel like I never see you!'"

"Shut up! I didn't _say_ tha—"

"—'Cotillion? Well, I'll have to let the Prince down gently, but'—"

"—Chuck, stop it—"

"—'but sure I'll _think about it_'!"

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

They stared at each other, both out of breath, shaking with anger.

"Wrong with me?" Chuck asked slowly, letting out a strained laugh. "A lot of things, apparently."

He stood up.

Blair's heart skipped a beat, then started thumping twice as fast.

"Chuck, I'm not going with Nate," she said. His eyes were glued to her. "I just told him that so he'd leave. Do you really think that Nate Archibald can pull one over on me? I'm not as stupid as you think." She paused, rather offended that he actually seemed to believe she'd been seriously thinking of going to Cotillion with Nate. She took a deep breath. "I already have a date. I'm going with Prince Theodore. He's a perfect gentleman, the perfect date—"

"Perfect?" Chuck shot out. "Blair, no matter how much you strive for it, you know it's not really you. Perfection bores you. Get with the times."

"I am with the times," she shot back, stung that he didn't seem to think she was perfect. "The New York Times. They've chosen me for A Night Out With. And I'm going to give them the most _perfect_ night of the year."

"Well, I hope you do. And I hope it makes you happy."

"Well I will. Without your help."

A muscle twitched in his cheek. "You know, Blair," he said, his voice dangerously low, "I was serious when I asked you before. To go to Cotillion with me."

But Blair was too riled up to listen to his attempts to calm her down. "And I was serious when I said no," she said hotly. "I'm going with Prince Theodore and I'm not going to change my mind."

"I'm tired of being your little secret," he cried suddenly. "Of no one knowing about us." Blair's lips parted. Where was this coming from?! "About what we have."

"What we have?! What do we have, Chuck?" she cried. "You tell me. A few make out sessions in broom closets and stolen moments in my bedroom? What a great thing to build a relationship on! Sex!" She mock-slapped herself in the forehead. "Why didn't I think of it earlier?! First time around I was all public all the time with no sex life to speak of, and now I'm tiptoeing through the dark, fucking you in your limo." Her face was red from screaming. "I'm the Queen of boyfriends, aren't I? I really know how to pick them!"

"Are you comparing us to your dysfunctional relationship with Nate?" he asked in a dangerously low voice.

"No, how silly of me. That was an actual relationship. An actual boyfriend. This—_thing_ between us isn't even in the same category. You're just a secret. You don't want Nate to find out. And now I know I don't want anyone to."

There was a stony silence.

"Well, you've gotten your wish, princess," he said, giving her a mock bow. "Hope you enjoy your Prince."

She couldn't think of a reply.

He was almost through the door when he paused, looking back over his shoulder at her. His gaze was hard. "I don't want you going to Cotillion with Nate," he said firmly.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" she bit out. Never mind the fact that she had absolutely no intention of going with Nate. "You're not my boyfriend."

Chuck's gaze never broke from hers. "That's entirely my point, Blair," he said softly. And with that, he left the room.

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon. Blair sipped her tea, sitting on a couch, pretending to listen to whatever story Kati and Iz were gushing about. With Eleanor in Paris setting up a Victoria's Secret deal, the planning of the pre-Cotillion tea party had fallen to Blair. Of course, Blair wasn't stupid enough to take her mother's excuse for missing her Debutant Ball at face value. While her mother was certainly a slave to fashion, she also adored all things society—but their cold war of late had cast a cloud over whatever ground they'd gained during Thanksgiving. Blair had hardly spoken three words to her mother since the Hunter-Bergman brother party. So now she was going to Cotillion without any family to cheer her on when she made her official debut into society. Unlike Serena, whose grandmother had flown in for the event.

But Blair merely flipped her hair over her shoulder and decided to not let it bother her. She was used to doing things by herself. Her mother had trained her well, at least in preparation for these circumstances.

Her eyes scanned the hallway, looking for Serena's blonde head. The house was packed with most of their junior class, as well as a host of Upper East Side-ers from other prominent prep schools. The DeLacey girls were chatting up some St. Benedict boys by the piano, most of the Dalton lacrosse team lurked by the food, and various Vanderbilts, Howards, and Prescotts milled around the room. Cotillion was a big deal for old-money families, and who better to hold a celebratory tea than the Waldorfs? Even Carter Baizen had shed his black-sheep coat to rejoin his family in this season of ultimate "Who's Who" by donning a suit and agreeing to be Serena's escort.

Neither Nate nor Chuck had made an appearance. Blair didn't really care about the first boy not showing up, and as to the second…she told herself it didn't matter. She didn't care. Why would he come, anyway? He'd been the one to leave, after all. And she was mad at him. He'd blown the whole thing out of proportion, her telling Nate she would "think about it." She hadn't said "yes" for fuck's sake. And as to announcing themselves publically, ending the secrecy and officially going out, in front of everyone…actually being girlfriend and boyfriend…being able to say he was hers… The idea was absurd. They'd be laughed at. It would never work. He'd probably cheat in a week and she'd be humiliated. Nate would flip out. And she didn't want to be his girlfriend anyway. He might have been…_incredible_…in bed…and, undeniably sweet most of the time…and caused her to sigh and melt and smile more often than anyone else ever had…but…he was Chuck Bass…and…he'd been so irrational before, about Nate asking her to Cotillion. And so mean about her love pin. And…he wasn't here, so…obviously, he didn't want her either…

Blair swallowed and tried to shove the thoughts from her mind. It was best not to think about it. Especially since whatever sprouting hopes she'd been carrying had been rudely squashed under yesterday's argument. They were basically over... Right?

She could care less. Really. She was going to Cotillion tomorrow with Prince Theodore. (_Not_ Chuck Bass.) Prince Theodore. The perfect date, like she'd said. He was. She'd show Chuck. She would. She would be happy. (She could be happy.) Everything would be perfect. (What was so wrong with perfection? It was _not_ boring…) Cotillion was going to be so much fun. (It had to be.) The New York freaking Times was writing an article on her. It would be perfect. It would. Tomorrow was going to be everything she'd ever dreamed her Debutant Ball could be. She could really care less about her and Chuck's argument. Really. That…thing between them was over. It was. She should just move on. Put it behind her. Forget about it. Forget about him.

Her hand trembled as she set her tea cup down, making the saucer clatter loudly. Kati gave her a strange look. Blair sneered back at her, grabbing a pastry from the table. Where was Serena? She'd barely seen her. Blair stood up.

"I'm going to go find Serena," she barked over her shoulder at Kati and Iz.

She strode down the hall, searching for her friend through the crowd that milled around. Heading to the foyer, Blair felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She drew it out to read the latest Gossip Girl dish.

**Better dry your eyes, B, because this Prince-less-than-Charming won't be making it to the ball on time. Instead of finding your glass slipper, PT's found himself a cast—for his broken leg. Ouch! Now that won't look good in a tux. Pre-winter-break skiing accidents are so annoying, aren't they? Who will escort our Queen to her debut ball? Is there a King in the line up? Send me the deets and I'll let everyone know. XOXO. You know you love me, Gossip Girl.**

Blair stared blankly at the message, the pastry she'd just scarfed tasting like shit in her mouth.

What the fucking fuck? Could there be anything _less_ perfect?

"Looks like I'm not the only one without a date now," a voice said at her shoulder.

Blair looked up to see Carter Baizen grinning down at her. He raised his eyebrows and nodded across the room. Blair followed his gaze and took in the sight of Serena kissing Dan's cheek. Cece's face looked half shocked, half disgruntled.

Blair met Carter's eyes. "Dan's actually going to escort her?" she asked.

Carter shrugged. "Guess so."

"Why would anyone want to go to their Debutant Ball with someone from Brooklyn?" she asked, shuddering at the thought. But then, at least Serena had a date.

Why the hell was everything falling apart? Cotillion was supposed to be perfect. The only thing that would make it worse would be if the New York Times canceled the article about her. And if she was stuck going with some acne-faced Riverside Prep boy from Queens who didn't know Gucci from Banana Republic.

"So," Carter said. "Looks like I'm dateless."

Blair gave him a look. "Is that a question?"

He smiled. "Well, you seem to be needing one, and here I am."

"Why do you even want to go, still?" Blair looked him over from head to foot. "Aren't you, like, a little old to be escorting juniors to their Cotillion?"

Carter held his hands up. "Hey, I was just offering. Who am I to leave a damsel in distress?"

"I'm not in distress," Blair snapped. "And for your information I've had many offers. They're probably still waiting in line."

"The day before the ball?" he asked, giving her a knowing look.

Blair cast another look at the beaming Serena. Why the hell did Serena always get everything? A nice boyfriend (even if he was from Brooklyn). A caring family (even if they were rather forgetful and manipulative most of the time—at least they were present, as in, in the same city). A date to Cotillion. Would Serena mind if…

Carter took her arm. She met his eyes. "Come on," he urged. "It'll be fun. I promise."

The words sounded good, but something made Blair look away. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have glanced at the elevator. And seen Chuck standing in front of it, staring at them, clutching his phone. Her lips parted. Their eyes clashed. Blair was suddenly very conscious of Carter's hand on her arm, and how close he was standing. Chuck abruptly turned around and hit the button to the elevator, which immediately opened. Blair wrenched away from Carter's grasp and ran to the elevator, but the doors had already closed.


	8. You Can Take Him With You

**Chapter Eight: You **_**Can**_** Take Him With You**

**

* * *

**

_Is it for THEE, the damask ROSE  
With such transcendent lustre glows?  
Is it for such a giddy thing  
Nature unveils the blushing spring?  
Hence, from thy lurking place, and know,  
'Tis not for THEE her beauties glow._

—Mary Darby Robinson, "The Bee and the Butterfly"

* * *

The next morning, Blair entered the courtyard of the Palace Hotel, but each step toward the entrance slowed until she stood in the middle of the path and simply stared at the doors, her mind racing.

She'd been entertaining some delusional fantasy of explaining everything to Chuck. Their argument Friday night had been horrible, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't push it from her mind. Or the fact that Chuck had showed up to tea yesterday afternoon only to leave a split second later… God, the look on his face had turned her insides to ice. And the elevator had closed before she'd gotten a chance to explain. The rest of the afternoon had consisted of turning up her nose to Carter's smarmy come-ons, drinking too much lukewarm tea while Serena and Dan cooed at each other, and waiting with excruciating impatience for all the guests to leave so she could slip up to her room and cry.

But crying wouldn't get her anywhere. And apparently neither would calling Chuck. He had either turned off his phone or was ignoring her calls on purpose.

Lying in bed last night, Blair had realized something. She didn't want Carter. She didn't really want Prince Theodore either. And she didn't want Nate. True, Cotillion was today, and there were only five hours before she had to check in with her date. If she really wanted to, if it didn't matter, she could just accept Carter or even Nate and just go with one of them. She was dateless, after all. Better to be with someone than admit to being alone, right? It would be horrible otherwise: the Queen B with no date to her own Cotillion? The Gossip Girl blast would be horrific.

But last night Blair had realized that didn't want to say yes to someone simply out of necessity.

So she'd decided to track Chuck down at the Palace, meet him face-to-face, and explain everything.

She wasn't sure if he'd listen, or if his offer even still stood. But she knew she wanted to go with him, not anyone else. She wanted to flaunt him on her arm, claim him in front of those skinny society sluts, and show everyone the reason behind her recent good mood. She was dying to go with him. Before, she hadn't thought he'd offer, and when he had, in her room on Friday… God she didn't know what she'd been thinking. Or what was wrong with her. Who really cared about Prince Theodore or the New York Times?

Anyway, that wasn't even the point of finding and talking to him now—if he didn't want to go with her anymore, she could accept it. Blair just wanted to explain and…apologize for being such a bitch.

She shouldn't have yelled at him that he was just a secret. That she didn't want anyone to know about them. That he didn't know what love was. It had been cruel. Especially since he'd wanted them to go public. Chuck Bass as her boyfriend…

Chuck had never been anyone's boyfriend before. He wasn't a second-date kind of guy—or even a _first_ date kind of guy. Chuck was more the booty-calling, hit it and quit it kind of guy. The guy who rarely slept with the same girl twice. His wanting to keep seeing her was in and of itself a big deal…and his wanting other people to know about it, even bigger.

Would it work? Could it work? Could they? That argument had been horrible; they knew exactly which spots would hurt the most: where to scratch, what words would sting. And…he was Chuck Bass. And she was Blair Waldorf. Could she really trust him? Sure he wanted to go public, but if they did and it didn't work out… And, God, the look on his face when he'd seen her with Carter at tea… Would he listen? Was there even a point in trying to explain?

God, it was hopeless. Blair didn't even know why she was there. Trying to apologize? Laughable at best.

Sighing, Blair was about to turn around and head back home in defeat when one of the people she least expected to see exited the hotel.

"Blair!" Nate called, grinning toothily as he approached.

She stopped short. "Nate, what are you doing here?" she blurted. It was a little disconcerting to go to the Palace intent on seeing Chuck and wind up bumping into Nate instead.

"I was just hanging out with Chuck, but I need to go pick up my tux now," he explained.

"Leaving it till last minute?" she laughed.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly. "Why are you here?"

The smile froze on Blair's face as her mind went blank. What reason could she possibly give? _I'm here to apologize and offer to be your best friend's date to Cotillion, you know, the best friend of yours that I've been banging for almost four weeks and have quite possibly fallen in love with but can't tell anyone about because he's a womanizing man-whore who can't be trusted and I'm supposed to be the Virgin Queen and you'd beat his face in if you knew about us._

Yeah, that probably wouldn't go over too well.

"Um…Serena and I are getting ready together," she said after a moment. "Dorota's bringing my dress."

Nate nodded, as if he'd already known. "Oh, yeah." He glanced briefly back at the hotel before meeting Blair's eyes. "So, she and Dan are going together?"

"Apparently." Blair shrugged.

"Oh, well, that's good, I guess," he said. "To go with who you want to go with."

He was staring at her, but Blair wasn't quite sure what message she was supposed to be receiving. She nodded and earned a smile.

"So, um, when should I pick you up?"

"Pick me up?" Blair blinked.

Nate nodded. "Yeah, tonight. For the ball?"

Her lips parted in understanding. Oh, God. He wasn't thinking what she thought he was thinking, was he?

"Nate, do you mean—you think we're going together?"

"Well…yeah." Nate shrugged as if it was obvious.

Blair suppressed a groan. Perfect. This was just what she needed. More Nate drama. God, had he blabbed about this with Chuck upstairs just now? Now, _that_ would just be the cherry on top of the disaster cake this Cotillion was turning out to be.

"Blair, I heard about the Prince," Nate continued. "I mean, with that Gossip Girl blast," he winced, "how could I not? And besides, I asked you. And…you said you'd think about it."

"Exactly. _Think_ about it," she replied hotly. Why did it seem as if she was always repeating herself? Did boys not understand that saying you'd "think about" something did not in any way equal an affirmation? God, she should've just rejected Nate outright instead of giving him hope. That was what had led to Chuck's angry jealousy and their fight in the first place.

"Look, Nate," she shook her head, "I can't go with you."

Nate looked taken aback, as if he'd never dreamed that she wouldn't be thinking along the same lines as he was. "Why not?" he asked. "Blair, come on. Who else are you going to go with? Cotillion is _tonight_. There isn't anyone else but me." He touched her arm, his voice lower, softer. "Is it really such a bad thing to go with me? Just as friends, like you said?"

Blair shook her head. "Nate, I can't go with you because…" She made a decision. "I already have a date. I'm gong with someone else."

Nate's hand dropped from her arm. "Who?" he asked incredulously.

Who indeed?

"Look," she said. "It doesn't matter who—"

"Yes, it does," he cried, taking a step back and throwing his arms out. "You promise to go with me and then I find out you're going with someone else? What the hell, Blair?"

"I didn't promise anything!" she said loudly. She caught a passing elderly couple giving them strange looks. Blair straightened her shoulders and lowered her voice. The courtyard of the Palace Hotel was really not the best place to be having this conversation. "Nate. We broke up. And I don't think it's a good idea for us to go to Cotillion together. Even as friends."

Nate let out a breath. "I get that you'd have a backup if things fell through with the Prince—and they did; I don't blame you. But, Blair," he said, stepping closer, "I already asked you—you said you'd think about it, too. And I know we broke up. But we can still be friends. Anyway, Cotillion is special. And this guy…whoever he is, will he really mind? Because, I mean, you were going to go with someone else anyway. Why not me?"

Blair was unmoved—and rather pissed off that Nate was being so fucking stubborn. Why couldn't he have been so resolute when she had cared? "Actually, he _would_ mind if I went with you," she said shortly. "And he did care about the Prince, too. And…" She took a breath, remembering how cute Chuck had been when he'd asked her teasingly the first time, before Nate had shown up at her house. "I'm sorry, but I want to go with him."

"What, are you saying you've already moved on?" he asked skeptically. "Have you been seeing him secretly all this time or something?"

Blair was silent.

Nate's jaw dropped in astonishment. He'd guessed right. "Oh my god…"

Blair sighed. "Does it really matter?" she asked.

"Yes, actually, it does," he sputtered indignantly. "Who is he?"

"I'm not going to tell you yet," she said adamantly. "Nate, don't be so surprised. We broke up." She remembered the Gossip Girl blast on her birthday, with Nate hugging some blonde girl. "You don't love me anymore," she said matter-of-factly. She took a breath. "And I don't love you anymore either, not like that."

Nate seemed at a loss. "Blair…"

"Just, don't," she said. "I'll see you at Cotillion."

And with that she strode past him to the Palace door, and went inside.

* * *

Blair marched down the hall. She was determined to talk to Chuck. Thanks to that run-in not only did she know that Chuck was in his room, but Nate had given her the boost she'd needed to go through with her plan. There was no backing down this time. Blair stopped at the door of suite 1812 and didn't hesitate. She knocked loudly.

A second later, the door opened.

"Blair." The surprise on Chuck's face was quickly masked.

God, had it really only been yesterday afternoon that she'd seen him briefly at tea?. She'd forgotten how good he looked. And he was looking very good at the moment. His hair was artfully arranged in the "I just woke up/aren't I so sexy/wouldn't you like to join me back in bed" kind of way that made Blair want to run her hands through it. And the blue-and-purple-printed ascot that was peeking up over the edge of his collar made her stomach flip. God, he knew his accessories. Was it wrong that Chuck's sharp fashion sense turned her on? He'd probably say it was kinky in the best way and smirk at her if she mentioned it. That was, if he even wanted to ever speak to her again.

Blair bit her lip. "Can I come in?" she asked softly.

There was a short moment where she wasn't sure if he'd say yes; in fact, he seemed to waver over whether or not to allow her inside his sanctuary or deny her entry, but then he backed away and opened the door wider, motioning her in with a raised eyebrow. Heart beating faster, Blair stepped inside and walked over to the couch, the same couch she'd sat on during Thanksgiving. She sat down. Chuck remained standing, his hands in his pockets.

He pursed his lips. "If you're looking for Nate, you just missed him," he bit out.

"I know," she said gently, meeting his dark stare. "I ran into him outside."

There was a tense pause.

Chuck sniffed. "Well, then I guess you know how eager he is to be going to Cotillion with his girlfriend," he said in a monotone voice. Blair inwardly winced at the last word. Guess Nate had been spouting off at the mouth this morning. "I hope you coordinated so his tux matches your dress." He leaned against the bar. "I know how much you like everything to be _perfect_—"

"I'm not going with Nate," she interrupted. Best to clear that up right away before his comments started getting sharper. "And I'm not his girlfriend. I haven't been for weeks."

Chuck blinked. "That wasn't the impression Nathaniel was under ten minutes ago."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Well, he was under the wrong one." She smirked. "But don't worry; I spelled it out for him."

She could have sworn she saw the ghost of an answering smirk passing over Chuck's lips before his mask settled back into place. His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath, shaking his head.

"But how could I forget?" he asked softly. "The Prince bows out and the pieces are already picked up by Carter Baizen." He tried to sound nonchalant, but there was an undeniable force behind the name. Blair wondered what grudge Chuck had against Carter to garner such seething anger. Surely it wasn't just about her?

A muscle in Chuck's jaw twitched. "Another prince among men. He's a little old for you, Waldorf, or at least for your virgin reputation—"

"I'm not going with him either, Chuck," she said firmly. Blair licked her lips. "I told them—both of them—thanks, but no thanks. I already have a date." She stood, clasping her hands together, close to her stomach. "That is…if the offer still stands."

Chuck was silent and unmoving, his gaze darker than ever. Then, just when she thought he would say something, he looked away and turned so that he faced the bar. Blair felt her stomach drop.

"Chuck," she implored, rushing over to him. He refused to look at her. "I'm sorry," she cried. "I shouldn't've—" Her voice caught. "I'm sorry about the tea. You left before I could explain."

"It didn't look like an explanation was needed," he replied sullenly.

Blair shook her head. "What you saw at tea with Carter was absolutely nothing. He had just offered to be my date because Serena decided to go with Dan, and Gossip Girl had just blasted about the Prince. I hadn't even said yes when I saw you by the elevator—"

"So you would have said yes if I hadn't been there?"

"Ye—No! I…_No_. Chuck, it didn't mean anything." She shifted her weight. "Why were you even there? I didn't expect you to show up."

"I didn't expect to either," he answered softly. "I thought that maybe…" He shook his head. His hard grip on the counter edge made his knuckles go white.

Blair felt her heart clench. Had he shown up to apologize for Friday? To make peace? Or just because Gossip Girl had blasted about the Prince's new leg cast? God, why had stupid Carter Baizen gotten in the way?

"I tried calling you last night but you didn't answer."

He shifted slightly and she could tell he felt a little guilty about ignoring her calls.

Blair licked her lips again, trying to find her voice. "On Friday… I know I said some horrible things. We both did, and I'm sorry. But I just don't understand why you thought I'd drop all my plans and go to Cotillion with my ex. Nate and I broke up weeks ago. There's no reason to be jealous."

Chuck's eyes snapped to hers then. "Can you blame me?" he asked, a tortured look on his face. "Everything's going fine—better than fine—and then I learn about this love pin. And Nate's suddenly interested in you again—just because for once you aren't pining over him. He couldn't take his eyes off you at dance practice, and asked me if you were seeing someone secretly. Then he shows up at your house, and you tell him you'll 'think about' going to Cotillion with him when you didn't even take me seriously, and you come back from talking to him all happy and bubbly—"

"Because I was glad he was gone," she cried. "And we could get back to—to what we were doing…"

They both remembered the heat of her bed. The blush on Blair's cheeks had little to do with talking so fervently and more to do with those memories.

"You were so adamant about going with the Prince…"

"I guess I just wanted my Debutant Ball to be perfect." She grimaced. "Not that it's turned out that way. And, I felt like I couldn't take your offer seriously after you bashed me and Nate and the Prince."

Chuck seemed to steel himself. "Why did you tell Nate you would think about it if you never intended on going to Cotillion with him?"

Blair let out a sigh. "Because…it seemed like the easiest way to get him to leave. I could have just said no—but, it's Nate, and I didn't want to hurt him." She leaned forward. "I _should_ have just said no. I—I never meant to hurt you."

She took a deep breath. "I didn't think it would be such a big deal. Do you not trust me enough to believe what I say?"

"What, and you trust me?" Chuck shot back.

Blair blinked. He was right. She didn't trust him—hadn't trusted him. His history, his love of playing games, almost everything pointed to the fact that he was untrustworthy. She saw now that neither of them had really trusted the other—she because of his past, and he because he'd never truly opened himself up to anyone; he'd never had a reason to. But in the past few weeks, hadn't he proven himself? Hadn't he always known about her detrimental eating habits? Hadn't he comforted her and salvaged her Thanksgiving, just like he'd salvaged her birthday and made her realize that her breakup with Nate wasn't so bad after all? Hadn't he kept their secret and pursued her further than he had any girl? And hadn't he shared his business proposal with her and talked about his father?

She had to let go of her preconceptions. She had to be free in a way she never had been with Nate. She had to open herself up and be honest. Blair could feel her inhibitions fall away as he scowled at her, impatient for an answer. She felt her shoulders relax.

"I do now," she said firmly. She simply looked at him.

The scowl fell from his face as he took in her words. He could understand just by looking in her eyes what she meant.

Chuck swallowed hard and bowed his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered after a moment.

Blair's breath caught. She never thought she'd see the day when Chuck Bass would apologize. For anything. She laid a hand on his arm.

"Everything was just so…" He shook his head. "I've never…had something like this—with anyone before," he said softly. He met her gaze. Two pools of dark, naked honesty stared back at her. Blair squeezed his arm. "I just wanted…" He faltered. "I got jealous because I want more, Blair. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I—what I feel for you is—I want people to know. I want everyone to see you on my arm at Cotillion."

"They can," she said softly. "And they will, if you escort me."

Chuck smiled wryly. "Are you just here because you need a date, and Cotillion starts in five hours?"

"Partly," she admitted grudgingly. It was true, she _did _need a date. She shook her head. "But I don't want just anyone. I could've had Nate or Carter. But I choose you. I want you. And I always get what I want." Her hand slid down his arm until she grasped his hand in hers. It felt nice and warm; it felt right.

Chuck looked down at their clasped hands, then back up to her eyes. "You're willing to have Chuck Bass present you at your coming out ball?"

The question hung heavily in the air, its implications clear: If he presented her, everyone would know about them. Blair would be publicly linking herself to Chuck Bass, a well-known reprobate who'd started drinking when he was ten, a lazy smart-ass who used his money to get whatever he wanted, from girls to test scores, and an all-around troubled youth whose own father expected the worst of him. The pristine reputation she'd worked on her whole life might be tarnished forever. People would talk, her friends would raise their eyebrows, and Nate would no doubt feel betrayed.

But the very way he said his own name made Blair even firmer in her decision. She wouldn't be ashamed of him. He wasn't just some dark, derogatory womanizer or sleazy friend always ready with a crass innuendo. He wasn't a sorry excuse of a son or a student. He was Chuck Bass—they were Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck—and it wouldn't be a punishment for her to stand up with him. Not at all.

Blair's eyes sparkled. "No," she said softly, a smile playing at her lips. Before he could deflate she continued. "But I am willing to have my boyfriend present me."

Chuck didn't say anything; he couldn't. His eyes spoke volumes, and one of his hands lifted to cup her cheek. His soft, warm smile made her tingle. He never gave that open, personal look to anyone but her, and it had never been so beautiful. When he looked at her like that, she felt like they could take on the world.

"Will you?" she asked, her smile widening even as she felt tears sting her eyes.

His mouth met hers in response. Even though it had only been a little over a day since they'd last kissed, it felt like so much longer. When her lips parted and his tongue slipped into her mouth, she couldn't stop herself from letting out a soft moan, or from burying one hand in his hair, the better to guide his head just as he guided hers with the hand that caressed her cheek. Chuck brought their clasped hands up between their bodies and only pulled away so he could kiss her hand.

"What about Nate?" he asked.

"What _about_ Nate?" she replied. There was nothing more to discuss about Nate.

Chuck pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. "He's going to care."

Blair let out a sigh. "We'll tell him before Cotillion starts. And if we can't find him…I think he'll get the message when they read both our names off the list." She smiled, her eyes bright.

Chuck grinned back at her. "So…I'm you boyfriend?" he asked.

"Is that a problem?"

"Well," he said, wrapping an arm around her, "I've never been one before."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you," she whispered, raising her face to meet his.

* * *

TBC


	9. Cotillion When It Sizzles

**Chapter Nine: Cotillion—When It Sizzles**

**

* * *

**

_Do I dare_

_Disturb the universe?_

_In a minute there is time_

_For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse_

—T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

* * *

Chuck glanced around the room, frowning. It was almost six and there was still no sign of Nathaniel.

He hadn't been worried at two-thirty when Nate still hadn't shown up for the last dance rehearsal and run-through. It wasn't exactly mandatory, and if Blair hadn't insisted, Chuck probably would have bailed from it, too. But at four, when there was still no sign of him—or any response to the many text messages and calls they'd sent—Blair started compulsively checking her phone. By five she was fussing with her dress and barking at Serena that she was fine while lashing out at her minions. Over the last hour she'd gotten more and more fidgety. She kept stepping on her train and was paranoid that it would tear. If anyone got too close they had better be prepared to meet a pissed off Queen B, the ultimate diva of Debutantes.

After posing for a picture, Blair yanked her train from some assistant who'd had the gall to try and arrange it for her and snarled, "If you don't pull it together, I'm going to go Naomi Campbell on your ass."

Serena urged the girl away before Blair actually _did_ commit assault.

Chuck knew she was only pissed because the night wasn't going according to plan. They had decided to try and get Nate alone during rehearsal and tell him that Chuck was her date—and also her boyfriend (Chuck was still trying to wrap his own head around that one). But Nate hadn't shown up. So they'd texted him. Then they had called him. And Nate still was nowhere to be found. Chuck knew after the whole debacle on Friday that Blair didn't care about Nate as she once had—so her PMS behavior wasn't a sign of her worry over what Nate would think or where he was. No, she was just irritated that Nate was once again late and throwing off her plans. Despite her opening up to him and asking him to escort her—and being prepared to deal with others' reactions—Chuck knew that Blair still wanted a perfect night. Or as close to one as possible.

And he'd give it to her, if Nate would just effing show up.

"Blair, maybe Jenny could help you," Serena said, motioning to her train as Jenny came down the steps toward them. Chuck noticed the slight falter in her stride when the youngest Humphrey caught sight of him and Blair standing next to each other. When he met her eyes she abruptly looked away.

"No, I'm fine," Blair insisted, slapping Kati's hands away from the large bow on her shoulder.

Chuck gave her a knowing look. He gently adjusted the bow so that it lay flat. Blair pursed her lips but he could tell she was trying not to smile. He could sense Jenny looking at them from the corner of her eye.

"Serena," Jenny said, "Mrs. Eurloch needs to know how to pronounce that word in your presentation statement. I assume it's a family name." She handed the card to Serena.

"Hello beautiful," a voice called. Chuck turned to find Carter Baizen at Serena's elbow. He tried to hide his grimace. Hum-Drum Humphrey hadn't even made it a day before Serena switched partners again. Chuck wasn't sure whom he loathed more: the Brooklyn charity case with a judgmental moral compass the size of the Chrysler Building, or that self-touted trust-fund dropping asshole who not only was a poseur rebel and hypocrite, but had also tried to scam his best friend.

It was a toss up, really.

"Baizen," Chuck greeted. "How nice of you to grace us with your presence. Was backpacking through the slums of Bolivia finally getting to you? I did hear you were in need of some cash a while back."

Carter gave him a tight smile. "Actually nothing so drastic. My parents and I finally came to an understanding, is all." He glanced at Blair. "Too bad you couldn't make it to Blair's tea yesterday, you would have heard all about it."

Chuck knew that the douchey comment was aimed at his abrupt arrival and departure. He felt Blair bristle next to him.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Carter," she simpered, in full Queen B mode, the sweetness overlying the steel. "Chuck had more interesting things to do yesterday than check Gossip Girl's map devoted to your travels." She lifted her wrist. "Like buy my corsage."

There was a pause.

"_He's_ your date?" Carter and Jenny exclaimed at the same time.

"I thought you were going with Nate after the Prince canceled," Kati said. She had assumed Chuck was just hanging with them all because…well, Nate was bound to show up eventually.

"Well you thought wrong," Blair snapped, tilting her chin up in attitude. Her gaze slammed into Jenny's dumbstruck face and Blair couldn't help the smirk that flitted across her lips. Jenny blinked.

Chuck caught Blair's wrist and straightened her corsage. "Did I do a good job?" he asked. She met his eyes. They both knew she'd ordered the corsage herself last week.

"Of course." She smirked, aware of the eyes trained on their every move. "You should be thankful your good taste in fashion extends to flowers, too."

"All real men know their flowers," he insisted. "The better to get the ladies."

Blair smacked his arm but that didn't stop him from seeing Kati's eyes light up or her phone whip out. No doubt to text Iz a transcription of their conversation.

"I didn't write this," Serena bit out. She was still holding the card Jenny had given her.

"What's wrong?" Carter sighed.

"My mother did." She shoved the card at Blair, her face hard.

"Serena hopes to continue to live on the Upper East Side," Blair read, "devote her life to volunteering for the Nature Conservancy and Junior League," Kati didn't succeed in stifling her giggle, "have two wonderful children—"

"Let me see that," Carter said.

Blair handed him the card and smoothed her hair down. "Make it stop, you sound like me," she laughed, straightening her dress again.

Chuck caught her fidgeting hand and leaned in so that his mouth was against her ear. "Don't worry. We'll be fine," he murmured. He pulled back and smiled at her.

Blair met his warm gaze and touched her necklace, this time on purpose. It was the Erikson-Beamon necklace, the one he'd given her for her birthday. He knew it was a signal of agreement, and that his words had calmed her. The small smile that teased her lips made his stomach flip. Those butterflies had never felt more alive.

Yes, they would be fine. And tonight would be good. He'd make sure of it. For her.

He knew she was worth it.

* * *

Nate raced inside, straightening his tie. He was late. Fuck.

It hadn't really been his fault, though. After having breakfast with Chuck in his suite, he'd gone to the tux place, which had forgotten to shorten the cuffs of his jacket. When that had been taken care of, he'd asked around for whoever needed a date, since Blair had been so unyielding that morning outside the Palace (he'd totally been counting on the fact that she'd say yes, especially with the Prince in a cast...). Fortunately, Ursula DeLacey was mysteriously dateless (Nate vaguely remembered Chuck mentioning something last week about texting one of the DeLacey girls…). Unfortunately, her gold-and-pearl-colored dress clashed with his grey tux, so he'd had to dig his black one out of the back of his closet (he hadn't worn it since the underclassmen spring dance last May). But, wouldn't you know it, his arms had apparently grown since then—and Nate didn't think that showing a few inches of wrist would be acceptable at Cotillion. So he'd had to go back to the tailor's _again_, only this time for them to try and lengthen his sleeves, which had ended up being a bust and he'd needed to just get a brand new jacket anyway, which had taken forever, and he'd had to listen to Jean-Claude ramble on and on in heavily accented English about his mother-in-law and her atrocious pack of bloodhounds that she bred as a hobby. _Then_ he'd stopped home to pick up his shoes, which he'd forgotten, and found his mother walking around the house robotically, a glass of gin in one hand and her cell phone in the other, making an appointment for another "Botox therapy session" (apparently the visit to his dad in rehab had not been all peaches and cream). After talking to her about it, Nate had sent her on ahead even though he was already running late (he should have checked in at two with his date for the last minute dance rehearsal and run through—it was going on four fourty-five and Cotillion started at six) because he realized he'd never arranged for Ursula's corsage to be delivered. So he'd had to go pick it up himself from the flower place. (In a taxi, too—which he wasn't complaining about. Unlike _some people_, Nate didn't object to using "the transportation of the hoi polloi." It had just taken forever.) And it had also taken forever to get to Cotillion. Traffic had been murder for a Sunday night. He probably would have been able to run there faster than it took the taxi to drive. But Nate doubted that showing up all sweaty would impress his date very much—or Blair, for that matter.

But he was here, finally. And it was… Nate slid his phone open. It was almost six. And he had apparently fourteen missed calls and he didn't even want to know how many missed texts. He'd been too busy all day to check his phone. Whatever, he'd look at them all later. He needed to find his date.

Nate headed to the ballroom staircase and spotted his classmates. Luckily, Ursula was second to last in line. However, she looked pissed as hell.

"Hey, sorry I'm late—" he managed, ducking into line.

But his apologetic blue eyes peeking out from under his artfully styled bangs had no (well, little) effect on his date.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Ursula DeLacey hissed, grabbing him by the arm, as if to make sure he was actually there. "Everyone's been asking me where you were and I couldn't tell them because I didn't know! I called you like three times! I know you like to get baked, but did you really need to smoke so much you forgot about Cotillion!?"

She said "Cotillion" like it was the most important thing in the world. With a frown, Nate shook off the grip she had on his arm. "For your information I've been running around the entire city today getting ready. Didn't want my tux to clash with your dress," he said tightly.

Ursula looked a little abashed as she fingered the skirt of her golden gown. "Oh," she said. "Well, you could have called or something."

Nate shrugged. He was here, wasn't he? No need to still be so bitchy about it. "I have your corsage."

The tenseness in Ursula's shoulders disappeared. She sent him a dazzling smile. "Oh! Thank you, Nate!" she simpered, holding out her wrist. Apparently all was forgiven and forgotten.

Nate repressed the urge to roll his eyes. Jeez if this had happened with Blair (which it never would, because she would have made sure his tux was ready three days ago and that they rode there together on time for the check in and that every other detail was meticulously planned out as to provide the perfect evening), but if it had happened with Blair, she would never in a million years cave so easily. A corsage was basically required, anyway. There wasn't really any thought that had gone into it.

He tied the flowers on Ursula's bony wrist and tried to ignore the way she was inching closer to him. And did she really just bat her eyes? Jeez, he knew he was single and everything, but girls didn't have to throw themselves at him like this. Just the other day a group of sophomore girls had surrounded him after soccer practice. He wondered if Ursula had even been dateless in the first place, or if she had just dropped whomever she was with in order to snag him when she heard Nate Archibald was looking for a date.

Whatever, it was just one night, right?

"Hey, Nate," a voice called.

He looked up a step to find Penelope grinning at him. She was one of Blair's friends.

"You made it," she said.

He nodded wearily. "Yeah, I did," he said.

"Just in time, too," Ursula pouted, annoyed that Penelope had entered the conversation.

"Hello and welcome to the annual Dispensary Cotillion and Debutante Ball," Mrs. Eurloch, the Mistress of Ceremonies, said into the microphone, earning applause and officially starting the evening.

"Katia Farkas, daughter of…"

"So, Nate," Penelope continued, drawing his attention away from the top of the stairs. "Why are you all the way back here? _I_ thought you'd be going with Blair or something."

Nate shrugged. Knowing what a gossip-monger she was from Blair, he decided to say as little as possible. "We decided to go with other people," he let out.

Penelope raised a well-plucked eyebrow. "Well, you seem pretty okay with it."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" he asked slowly, a little confused.

Penelope blinked. "I just meant, considering…"

"Considering what?"

"Well, I guess, considering her choice…"

Nate frowned. He didn't need to be reminded of what Blair had said to him that morning. She'd rather go with someone else—someone she'd been seeing for awhile since they'd broken up. It was weird to think of Blair as single, let alone as with someone else… In fact, wasn't that guy supposed to be here right now? She'd said she wasn't ready to tell him who her date was yet, but if the guy was escorting her to Cotillion, then everyone would know. Nate would _see _him for crying out loud. Where was she in line? He strained to spot the back of her head.

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf, daughter of Harold and Eleanor Waldorf…"

Nate jerked his eyes up to the top of the stairs. That was Blair all right, wearing one of her mother's originals, her hair up in a sleek French twist, curls coiled at the nape of her neck. So that would mean…

"…escorted by Charles Bartholomew Bass…"

The floor seemed to shift under Nate's feet. He blinked, but the picture in front of him didn't change.

Yep, there was his best friend, standing next to his ex-girlfriend at the top of the stairs. Nate was half aware of a low buzz that started around the room at the sound of Chuck's name. A few of the kids in line ahead of him peered over each other's shoulders to try and get a better look. He saw Hazel whip her phone out and start texting so fast that her thumbs blurred. Parents and high society members muttered to each other that it was surprising such a promising young lady would allow herself to be escorted by a new-money young man for her début—especially considering his reputation. No doubt Gossip Girl would report on it stat: "Bass Billionaire-to-Be and the Queen B," or "The Virgin Queen with the Mother-Chucking Basstard Himself," or "The Fall of the Queen: from Prince to Bass-Boy."

The tittering continued, but Nate barely noticed. He simply stared at the two figures on the landing, deaf to the committee-woman's narration of Blair's life goals. He wished he could see their faces instead of staring stupidly at the back of their heads. Then the pair continued up the stairs, the début complete, her arm linked in his. Nate missed whatever made the entire audience laugh right before Serena started up the stairs. But it didn't matter; he was too busy watching Chuck and Blair reach the next level and continue on to the ballroom above.

Why had he ever thought to match the color of his tux to her dress? They would have blended together into a mob of grey if he had been her escort. Nate couldn't help thinking that Chuck's classic black tux complemented Blair's silver dress in a way that his own grey tux never would have been able to: the contrast was stark and she stood out from him like a star, shining against the dark background he provided. Light and dark, they were perfectly suited.

Blair was going with Chuck?

Nate shook his head, confused.

Had her guy stood her up or something? Had they decided to wait to reveal their secret relationship? It seemed strange that Blair would be so adamant just that morning about going with her mystery guy, and then end up with his own best friend. Maybe she'd been too embarrassed to ask Nate after she'd turned him down? Blair had been kind of harsh outside the Palace. And he knew how prideful she could be. She probably just didn't want to admit she had been wrong.

Though he wouldn't have felt too bad if she'd apologized and asked for his help. Nate had always fancied playing the White Knight—which was one of the reasons he liked to think Blair first started liking him back in elementary school. He was quick to see a problem; he helped people out. True, he was admittedly swift to throw a few punches, but that was merely evidence of his rightful emotions and protective nature. And Nate knew Blair had always had a thing for fairy tales and happy endings (watching all those old movies had always put him to sleep, but she'd always liked them).

Yeah, her guy had probably bailed, and Blair had been too proud to admit she needed a date. So she'd asked a friend to step in: Chuck. His best friend. Someone who was unthreatening and neutral.

He sighed impatiently as the line slowly moved forward. Even though Nate had come to a conclusion, he still wanted to track down Blair and ask her what had happened. It was a bit annoying to be so far back in line. Though, of course, if he had gotten there sooner it wouldn't have been such a problem.

Bored, Nate pulled out his phone. It was as good a time as ever to check all those missed calls and texts. One call from his mom, one from the flower shop, two from Ursula. Four from Chuck, five from Blair. Nate was a little unsettled seeing Chuck's name so many times on the list, but he figured his friend must have been calling for Blair. Or to tell him to hurry his ass up and get to Cotillion already so that Chuck could be someone else's date and actually get some action during the after-party—not that Chuck ever had a problem getting some, no matter who his date was, but being with the Virgin Queen B would severely limit the options, even for Chuck Bass.

Nate couldn't really help but admire the way his best friend was sometimes. Chuck did whatever he wanted, with whomever he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Sure he adhered to the code of the UES (barely), and he embraced his father's copious amounts of money and future trust-fund with whole-hearted acceptance, and he would follow the laid out path (graduation, college, business school) with relatively little complaint. Nate wasn't sure he agreed with all the privileges that were offered, but he could appreciate how Chuck simply took it all in stride and lived in the moment. No responsibility, no accountability. All pleasure all the time.

Sometimes Nate wished his life could be so simple.

Nate shook his head, smiling. He opened the text message box on his phone. He scrolled through a few:

N, I need 2tellU somethng. find me at rehearsal –B

N, hey i'll CU at rehrsl–C

N, where RU? –B

N, where RU? –C

N, where RU??? –U

N, where RU? Hurry up –B

N, srsly we need 2talk –B

N, its been 2hrs. Call me! –B

N, U better get here soon –C

N, I need 2talk2U –C

N, where the fuck RU!? –B

N, srsly did you forget Cotillion is 2NITE?? –C

While the building urgency was sort of funny, it merely increased his impatience. Nate wanted to get to the ballroom already so he could find Blair. It was obvious she had something important to tell him. He hoped it was that bogus story she'd fed him about her seeing some guy secretly. It had probably been a lie, and she wanted to apologize. She'd just wanted to make him jealous. She probably wanted to get back together. And Chuck probably knew it.

That had to be it.

Nate's chest felt warm at the thought of being Blair's boyfriend again. She was so different now. The breakup had been good for them—he'd realized his problems were bigger than silly school things and that he wasn't in love with Serena (even though she was drop dead gorgeous, and incredibly fun to be around, and so full of life and so bubbly, and the first and only girl he'd had sex with…). And Blair had changed. She'd finally lost the stick that had been up her ass for so long. The ice queen had officially and finally melted. The past few weeks Nate didn't think he'd ever seen her so happy, so bright and…beautiful. She seemed surer of herself, more relaxed. Less control-crazy, less bitchy, less…less Blair. She'd worn those sexy red tights on Friday (God, those had driven him crazy at dance practice), and even jeans earlier this morning. Blair never wore jeans—he could barely remember the last time he'd ever seen her in jeans. He hadn't even known she _owned_ a pair of jeans.

This break was just what they'd needed. A little pause to regroup. Because really, it was like everyone said, like their parents said: They were perfect for each other.

Nate finally saw it, too.

Finally the Mistress of Ceremonies called him up to the landing. Nate played his part, smiling for the camera and the hundred or so of the UES' wealthiest. Ursula took his arm and he led her up the stairs to the ballroom.

Man, he'd forgotten that they all had to do their practiced dance before they were free to roam around the building. Nate took his new spot, ignoring Ursula's giggling in his ear and strained to find Blair and Chuck across the room. He finally found them but they weren't looking for him in the crowd; it seemed like they were having a deep discussion. They stood close together, probably speaking low enough that others couldn't hear. The golden candlelight reflected off the jewels at Blair's pale throat, making her skin sparkle. Come to think of it, that necklace looked expensive…he wondered when she'd gotten it. He didn't remember giving it to her…

Nate felt a funny sensation in his chest when he noticed that Chuck's hand was on her arm. And he wasn't moving it. And she wasn't shaking him off. It looked like she didn't mind at all.

Maybe it was the distance. They were pretty far away…

Nate didn't get much chance to speculate about what subject so engrossed the pair before the music started and he had to swing Ursula around the room. He and his partner joined three other couples to form a circle. He bowed to Hazel, danced a few steps with Alyson Sheffield, then rejoined Ursula to finish the sweep across the room.

Once the music ended with a flourish (to much applause), he quickly scanned the floor to find his best friend and ex-girlfriend.

"Nate, do you want to dance again?" Ursula asked coyly, twirling her hair.

Nate blinked. "Uh…actually, you know, how about later?" he asked. Ursula wrinkled her nose. "'Cause, I really need to find Chuck, and… Look, why don't you ask Warner to dance?" Nate motioned to Warner Goldberg, who stood just to the left of them, drinking some punch. He was a senior, but he was there because his sister was making her début.

Ursula grinned. Even though her date was Nate Archibald…a senior was better any day. "'Kay, see you later!" And she bounced over to Warner.

Nate wandered the edge of the dance floor, searching for Chuck and Blair, but he wasn't having much luck. Maybe they'd left the room? Maybe they were looking for him? He strained to catch the face of a girl whose head looked like Blair's from the back…but it wasn't her. Frowning, he was about to go search elsewhere when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Nate, hey!"

He turned to find Jenny Humphrey, as cute as could be with her curls and pink dress.

"Oh, hi Jenny," he said. "What are you doing here? Not, I mean, that since you aren't a Debutante you shouldn't be here…" he joked. "But, are you helping Blair or something?"

Jenny shook her head. "No, Serena's mom recruited me." She noticed his wandering eye scanning the dancing crowd. "Looking for someone?" she asked.

Nate gave her a sheepish smile. "Yeah. I'm looking for Blair, actually. Have you seen her by any chance?"

Jenny shook her head. "Not recently. But, you know, if she's out there dancing, the best way to find her would be to go out there yourself."

"Are you asking me to dance?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, if you're offering," she laughed, taking his proffered arm.

They walked to the dance floor and Nate took her hand, placing his other hand on her back. Jenny looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"Why are you looking for Blair?" she asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

Nate shrugged, trying to brush it off. It was nothing, right? "Oh, she just called me before a few times. And I was late getting ready, so I don't know what she wanted," he said. He took a breath. "Actually…I was kind of surprised when I saw her with Chuck," he admitted.

Jenny looked confused. "Why would you be?"

Nate blinked. "Well…I mean, after the Prince bailed, Blair told me she was going with someone else."

"Who?" she asked.

But before Nate could answer, he spotted Blair's face over Jenny's shoulder.

"There they are," Nate exclaimed. He pulled Jenny closer to the edge of the dance floor and stopped dancing.

"Well, are you going to go talk to her?" Jenny prompted.

Nate was about to step forward, but something stopped him from moving. He wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that Chuck's hand was little lower on Blair's back than it should have been. Or maybe it was because they looked so good together, silver and black and white, both with dark hair and dark eyes and matching smiles. Not smirks, but real smiles. Blair looked stunning. She was…glowing. And dancing with Chuck.

"They look really good together, huh?" Jenny commented, reading Nate's mind, watching transfixed as Chuck waltzed Blair around the room.

"Yeah…" Nate said.

"I never thought he'd escort her either," she continued thoughtfully. "But, I guess…" She shook her head in wonder. "I mean, she's your ex, and he's your best friend. And I know they can both be kind of scary sometimes…but they suit each other. Don't you think?"

Nate managed a nod.

Chuck said something that made Blair laugh. Not a giggle, or an amused titter, but a full-out laugh. Chuck was grinning back at her. They spun around the room effortlessly, dancing on air.

"…surprising," Jenny was saying. "And I know it sounds…"

Nate swallowed.

"…bring out the best—or maybe the worst…"

There seemed to be a fog surrounding his brain. He kept losing Jenny's words. All he could see were Blair and Chuck.

Was it possible?

He felt like the world had fallen off its axis. What the fuck was going on? He wanted to deny it, but his tightening stomach wouldn't let him. All those phone calls and texts, urging him to hurry up so they could talk to him. Blair's sudden relaxation ever since they'd broken up. Her taking the love pin back from him. The new necklace, the new smile, the new jeans. He'd even bumped into her outside the Palace for Christ's sake.

And then Jenny's words penetrated the fog:

"…saw them in his limo together—"

"What?" Nate asked, turning to her abruptly.

She shrugged. "After the Hunter-Bergman brother party. About two weeks ago—"

"Wait, what do you mean?" he interrupted. "They—they hooked up?"

"Yeah." She blinked at him. Nate felt his stomach drop. "After the Hunter-Bergman party I caught them going at it hot and heavy in his limo. They had to drive me home and I forgot my purse and when I opened the door again…" She shrugged her shoulders, turning back to look at Blair and Chuck on the dance floor. "I probably shouldn't say anything. Blair got pretty mad when I saw them." She rolled her eyes and gestured towards the couple. "But I mean, they're public now, right? If they still wanted to keep it a secret, they're not being very subtle—"

"What do you mean, public?" Nate asked hotly. "They're not—going out?"

Jenny suddenly froze, turning pale. Her eyes shot to his. "Nate," she asked slowly, "are you saying you don't know?"

Nate gritted his teeth. "Don't know what?" he asked as calmly as he could. "Answer the question."

Jenny's lips trembled. "Well, I think they might be," she said. "I—I don't know. But…if they were secretly seeing each other before, they're making a statement now." The two watched as Chuck spun Blair around, laughing. "Loud and clear," Jenny said softly.

There was a rushing sound in Nate's ears. He could barely take in what Jenny was saying. Then, before he knew what was happening, he was in the middle of the dance floor, marching toward Chuck and Blair, elbowing people out of his way. His vision was blurry; all he could see was Chuck. With his hands on Blair.

His best friend was fucking his girlfriend? Behind his back? Had they gone that far yet? God…

Nate grabbed Chuck's shoulder and spun him around.

Chuck, mid-laugh at something Blair had said, was still turning in the dance steps. The split second that his eyes met Nate's, Nate felt his rage explode. The smile on Chuck's face was suddenly obscene. Nate's hard pull sent his friend stumbling off-balance into another pair of dancers.

"What the hell, man?" the guy exclaimed.

"Wha—?" Chuck sputtered.

"Nate!" Blair cried. "What are you _doing?!_"

Chuck straightened. "Nathanial, what is going—"

"You son of a bitch!" Nate bit out, sinking his fist into Chuck's face.

* * *

TBC


	10. The Dancing Hell and the Butterflies

**Chapter Ten: The Dancing Hell and the Butterflies**

**

* * *

**

_Sew up my eyes, with the lies you sold me,  
give me one last bitter taste of air…_

_now the fairytale's at an end…_

_It turns out the slipper doesn't fit,  
and there is no ball,  
life is not a simple thing,  
there's no happily-ever-after at all._

--Amy Bidmead, "I Had A Childish Fantasy"

* * *

Chuck went down like a stone onto the hard marble floor, but not before grabbing Nate's sleeve and tugging hard. As he fell onto his side, Chuck whipped out his leg and caught Nate behind the knee. A seam gave and the sleeve tore from the jacket with an almighty rip; his leg gave out from under him, and, off-balance, Nate twisted around and careened into Blair. He grabbed her shoulders to stay upright, but her heels were no match for the sudden addition of his weight. She teetered; he stepped on her skirt and brought her down too.

Blair hit the floor with a deafening shriek. She jabbed her elbow into Nate's side, kicked him in the shin with her heel, and shoved him off her and onto his ass.

"Nate!" she exclaimed in outrage, sitting up. The bow on her shoulder had detached and she stared at it in utter horror.

Before Nate could say anything, Chuck tackled him from the side.

"What the hell was that for?" Chuck cried.

Nate pushed him back, trying to get some traction, and some dignity, from his spot on the floor.

"Oh my God, B!" Serena rushed over to help Blair stand.

The surrounding couples had stopped dancing to form a ring around the brawl.

"You slept with her?!" Nate cried indignantly. The tittering crowd was silenced, then exploded into uproar. His words also stunned Chuck for a moment, and Nate was able to wrestle his so-called best friend down onto his back. Chuck's silence was all the answer he needed. Goddamnit, he knew it. "You son of a bitch I aught to kill you!" he shouted.

"Oh my fucking God!" Blair screeched, with no thought to the mob that was quickly forming and could hear every word. She grasped her bow in one hand and her skirt in the other. "My dress!"

Half the train had detached from the back, thanks to Nate's stupid feet.

"Maybe we should talk about this without your hands around my neck," Chuck choked out. He brought his knee up with a jab and caught Nate in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. Nate spun to the side but kept his grip on Chuck's lapels, bringing the other guy with him.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Nate grunted hoarsely, his fist slamming into Chuck's side, to the glee of the surrounding crowd, who captured the carnage with video and pictures on their cell phones.

"Blair, it's okay, just come with me," Serena said, pulling her friend away from the boys who were rolling around on the floor, a jumble of fists, elbows, and knees. Serena had to get Blair away from the fight before the ruined dress stopped distracting her from what Nate was shouting at Chuck—because once Blair realized that they were airing her sex life in front of the entire Upper East Side…it would not be pretty. Serena battled her way through the tight ring of highschoolers that had formed, dragging Blair behind her, who was trying to hold her tattered dress together. Then Serena pushed her way through the mob of general onlookers and the parents and committee members who were trying to stop the fight.

"—Oh, man, did you just see that—!?"

"—shit, did they _both_ sleep with her—?"

"—fight! Hey! A fight—!"

"—Archibald and Bass?! What a throw down—!"

"Get out of the way," Serena shouted, pushing her way through a group of Dalton boys who were hurrying toward the action.

"You don't understand," Blair moaned, clutching her train.

"Blair, it's going to be okay—"

"S, this is custom-made, my mom is going to kill me!" she wailed. "My Cotillion is ruined!"

"Jenny!" Serena exclaimed, catching sight of the blonde girl at the edge of the dance floor. "Jenny, Jenny—hey, hey we need you! Please?!"

Jenny stared at Blair's dress, and then back up at Serena's imploring face. "I—I have to go. I have my mom's thing," she said lamely.

"Jenny," Blair commanded.

Jenny's eyes snapped to Blair. She tried not to gulp. Fuck, this was all her fault. Why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut?

Blair's dark eyes were furious, barely containing the storm within. She shook her detached train and Jenny couldn't help blanching at the damage.

"Fix my dress and all is forgiven," Blair ground out. "You'll be off probation."

Jenny's heart thumped. It was all she wanted, but was it just a test? Did Blair know what she'd said to Nate? To all appearances the answer was no… If Blair ever did find out, probation would be the least of Jenny's worries.

God, but she hadn't known Nate would fly off the handle like that and attack Chuck! She'd thought he knew they were together—wouldn't they have told Nate first? And it was pretty obvious from just the way Chuck and Blair danced that something was going on. Plus the fact that they'd gone together…wasn't that meant to be taken as a signal to everyone? Weren't they laying claim to each other? Weren't they publicly stating their new relationship? That's what Jenny had thought when Blair had declared Chuck as her escort before. But maybe she'd just read too much into it, since she knew about them already…

God, she didn't know. She just knew that if Blair ever found out she had prompted Nate to start throwing punches...she'd never be forgiven. To Blair, Cotillion was sacred. Plus Nate had ruined her dress.

Jenny knew she owed much more to Blair than just repairing a detached train.

Shoulders slumped, Jenny nodded. She was already way late for her mom's art show. If she was going to be in deep shit, she might as well go in all the way. Plus Blair was commanding her. And no one said no to a command from a pissed of Queen B.

"I have my sewing stuff right here," she said, grabbing her bag. She'd brought it in case anyone had dress malfunctions before the ball started. Though she hadn't imagined anything of this magnitude happening—but leave it to the UES to always outdo her expectations.

"Let's go downstairs where it's quieter," Serena said, urging Blair away from the dance floor. Apparently the fight was still going on in full-swing.

"Blair!" Iz and Kati clacked toward the group in their heels. "Are you okay? We were in the bathroom but we just saw on Gossip Gi—"

"I don't really care, Iz!" Blair shrieked. She shook her train again and the bow on her shoulder dangled tragically. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm half naked because my dress is falling apart!"

"Oh my God, did they hit you?" Kati squealed.

"Did Nate really sucker-punch Chuck in the face?" Iz asked excitedly. "Are they really fighting over you? That is so romantic!" she squealed.

"You mean barbaric," Kati interjected.

"I didn't even know you _liked_ Chuck!"

"They'll be talking about this forever!" Kati said excitedly. "The throw down at Cotillion!"

"So who are you going to choose?"

"Duh, Iz. Who do you think she's going to ch—"

"I do _not_ have time for this!" Blair declared, storming past them and grabbing Jenny's hand. Her face was flushed, but it wasn't clear if the cause was anger or embarrassment.

With Jenny in tow, Blair marched down the hall heading for the stairs, but Serena was detained by Iz and Kati, who pulled her aside after Blair had passed.

"Oh em gee, S," Iz said. "Do you know what's going on?"

"Did Blair really sleep with Chuck?" Kati asked, her eyes fixed on the crowd on the dance floor. "Is that why he's escorting her to Cotillion? Because they're having an affair?"

Serena frowned and blew out a breath. "Well, it looks like Nate didn't take the news of them getting together too well."

"So they _are_ together?" Iz asked, pulling out her phone.

"Who ever would have thought?" Kati said, pulling out hers.

"Yeah," Serena said, staring at the mob behind them.

* * *

"What'd you do? Did you just get what you wanted, like you did from all those other girls?" Nate spat, slamming Chuck against the floor. "You're a real asshole, you know that Chuck?! 'Hit it and quit it' that's your motto, right?!" Nate brought his fist back, ready to give his so-called best friend another punch in the face but a hand caught his arm and pulled him up off the floor. He struggled to lunge back into the fight but his rage wasn't a match for the arms that held him. Unfortunately. Two other guys grabbed Chuck and lifted him.

"Now, that's enough—"

"Yes, Nathaniel!" Chuck snarled sarcastically, straining against his own holders. "I took what Blair kept throwing at you and you kept throwing back."

"Oh, so somehow you screwing Blair for sport is _my fault?_" Nate shouted.

"It wasn't for sport," Chuck said firmly through gritted teeth. "She needed someone and I was there."

"Really, now gentlemen, let's be reasonable—"

"Oh, so you _care_ about her?" Nate sneered, cutting off the Mistress of Ceremonies, who'd gotten in the midst of the fray. She gave him an affronted look but the two boys ignored her.

"You guys broke up," Chuck insisted hotly, jerking his arm away from one of the guys holding him. It wasn't like he and Blair had cheated. Not technically.

"So you decided to fuck her because she was finally free!? In your goddamn limo!? How long was it until you decided to pounce? A week? An hour? The one girl who was off limits?"

"It wasn't like that—it's not—"

"Please, you expect me to believe that!?" Nate cried. "You, who's never slept with the same girl twice—but maybe for Blair you made the exception. The little virgin you've secretly wanted since middle school."

Chuck's stomach turned over. It was pretty much true: He had always wanted her. Maybe the temptation of the forbidden, the beautiful—the innocent to his experience, the bitch to his asshole, the Queen to his King—had been part of it at first…but it was so much more now. His feelings were so much more. Now that he finally had her, there was no way he was giving her up without a fight. Even if the entire UES was witness to the revelation of his and Blair's secret relationship and Nate looked ready to kill him.

"Look, I am sorry," he said tightly. "Alright, I know how long you and I have been best friends, okay?"

"No, it's not okay, Chuck," Nate shot back. He strained against his holders, an ugly snarl on his handsome face. "You've been banging my girlfriend behind my back all over the entire fucking city, from what I've heard," he ground out, to the flashes of dozens of cameras. "What, couldn't keep it in your pants? The second we take a break you swoop in—?!"

"You're not taking a break," Chuck said hoarsely.

"What the fuck do you know about it!?" Nate shouted. "You've been pushing me to let her go but we'd have gone to Cotillion together if it weren't for you! From now on you stay the hell away from her!"

Chuck felt the anger in him rise. God, Nate was so stupid sometimes. Sure, Nate was pissed that they hadn't told him—but they'd tried! _He_ was the one who'd been late to Cotillion. And Blair had made it fucking clear that she wasn't interested in Nate anymore.

Chuck set his jaw, meeting his best friend's eyes with an icy glare. "She's not your girlfriend anymore, Nathaniel."

"What and she's yours?"

There was a pause. The crowd around them held its breath. Even the Mistress of Ceremonies and the surrounding parents had given up trying to stop the boys, entranced by the scene enfolding in front of them.

Chuck thought about how Blair had come to the Palace that morning to apologize and how she'd asked him to be her boyfriend. He felt the butterflies rise at the memory of her face. Cotillion was their first outing as an official couple. They were public now—he wasn't her dirty little secret. They were Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck. Boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Yes, actually," he said.

The crowd buzzed.

So this might not have been the way he and Blair had imagined everyone finding out…but Nate had asked. And Chuck wasn't going to deny it. He had nothing to be ashamed about. What he and Blair had… What he felt about Blair, was beautiful.

Nate tried to twist out of his captors' hold so he could get to Chuck. "You son of bitch, is that supposed to be a joke!? What the hell is wrong with you Chuck?"

He took offense at Nate's disbelief. "Nothing, because I am completely serious!" he shot back.

"_What?_" Nate sputtered.

"Look, I know she's too good for me," Chuck said bitterly. "The whole world is screaming it—"

"Yeah, because it's true!" Nate cried. Chuck felt as though Nate had sucker punched him again.

"I don't care!" he snapped. "I'm sick of it! Why do I have to be the Dark Prince and you get to be the White Knight!? Even though everyone else seems to have forgotten, Blair sure still remembers that you slept with Serena—"

The crowd roared.

"That happened a long time ago!" Nate cried. "I don't—"

"—so why does everybody blame me for everything?" Chuck continued. "Did you ever think that maybe Blair wants me, too? Did you ever think that the reason she's been so happy lately is because of me!? We've been together since her birthday—"

"We only broke up the day before that!" Nate bellowed.

"Well you didn't seem to have felt it that badly if you skipped her party to take pictures with some blonde skank!" Chuck snarled. The memory of Blair's tears on receiving that Gossip Girl blast at her birthday party still pained him.

"She was just a friend! It was nothing," Nate insisted, his adorable Natefused frown furrowing his handsome brow. He was obviously annoyed that he couldn't quite play the victim any longer. "My dad just got arrested—I wasn't thinking straight. Besides, what kind of friend are you that you steal my girlfriend the second my back is turned!?"

"Your back was turned a long time before that," Chuck said.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Face it, Nathaniel. It's over. Blair doesn't want you anymore."

"How can you say that!? We've barely broken up—We were going to go to Cotillion together—She's been my girlfriend for forever! We were in love!"

"Well so am I!"

Chuck panted as his words hung in the air. A vacuum seemed to have sucked all the sound out of the room, even the clicks of the camera phones.

Nate gaped at him.

* * *

Hands trembling, Blair tried not to think about what was going on upstairs as Jenny knelt at her feet, sewing her dress back together. She fiddled with her necklace, the one Chuck had gotten her for her birthday. The day they'd made love for the second time.

Chuck. Oh, God. Nate had attacked him. How had he found out? And now the whole school—the whole UES—the whole world—_knew_.

It wasn't bad that they knew, per say, more like the way it had come out. God, couldn't Nate have pulled her and Chuck aside quietly and asked them what was going on? Hadn't she left him enough messages that afternoon, telling him she needed to talk to him about something important? There was no need to throw punches, claim injustice, and rip her dress. She wanted to slap Nate. This was _so_ not how she'd wanted to tell him, to tell everyone… Iz and Kati had practically been bubbling with glee at the fight and the gossip…Serena had abandoned her…Blair had heard what the crowd had been saying…

Now everyone thought she was a whore, just another in Chuck's endless line of girls—exactly what she didn't want to be—exactly what she wasn't. She was his girlfriend. They were going out; they were exclusive. He wanted her; he liked her. It was different with them. She could feel it…

Blair could just imagine what Nate was claiming, what Chuck was shouting back. He could be cruel... Their fight on Friday had hit that fact home to her rather harshly. He knew just where to strike, exactly what would hurt most, even if he hadn't meant a lot of it… God, if what he was saying now was just as bad…

She smoothed her hair, trying to calm down. It would be okay. Just because her boyfriend and her ex had gotten into a public brawl didn't mean the world was ending. They'd get through it. If Nate never spoke to them again… Well, at this point she could really care less. It was all his fault because they'd meant to tell him before Cotillion started. He was the one who'd been late.

And somehow found out about them by himself. God, how had that _happened?_ Had he just put two and two together and gotten it? Had he seen them and—oh God, she'd told him just this morning that her date was the guy she'd been seeing. When he'd seen Chuck he must have assumed…and been right…but then why wait for the confrontation? If he was so angry—as that sucker-punch attested—why had he waited till after the dancing? Why not just run up the stairs after they'd been presented, jostling their classmates out the way, and started the fight on the landing under the Mistress of Ceremonies' nose, in front of everybody? It would have been just as—if not more—effective. Blair gritted her teeth. Not that many had missed the actual fight. They'd been in the middle of the dance floor and surrounded by onlookers in seconds. She'd probably ripped her dress even more when Serena had dragged her through the crowd away from the boys.

Blair tapped her foot, hearing Jenny rustling beside her, pinning her dress back into place.

God, her mother was going to kill her. Blair supposed it was a good thing Eleanor was in Paris because if she'd been present… Blair tried not to think about what her mother would say when she heard about the boys throwing punches at her daughter's debutante ball—over her daughter. Eleanor had probably expected something like this, or she'd probably say as much once she came home. She'd say 'I-told-you-so' to Blair, forbid her from seeing Chuck, and bemoan the state of her dress.

Not that it was Chuck's fault. It was Nate's—the asshole. He'd been the one who'd stalked up to them, grabbed Chuck's shoulder, and thrown his fist.

Hadn't Blair told Chuck once that Nate would never cause a scene? What had she even been thinking? Nate was always the one getting riled up, he was so far from perfect—this night was so far from perfect—

Oh God, oh God, was that New York Times reporter still here? Had he left after the presentation? Please let him have left after the presentation. If he was still here… There was no way he could miss the fight… A Night Out With? A Fight Out With two best friends over the same girl. On the front page of the section. Holy shit.

Blair let out a strained laugh at the thought, trying not to get hysterical.

It'll be okay, she told herself. Don't think about it. Don't think about them, just focus on your dress. God, she hoped Jenny would be able to do it all—and not do a half-ass job of it either. Because then the dress would be ruined even more. And her mother would explode.

Blair heard a cell phone go off.

It was probably Gossip Girl, she thought distractedly. Bitch. She was most likely gloating over it all: the fall of the Queen, the affair, two best friends lying and fighting and doing it all at Cotillion. Even if the New York Times reporter had left, that didn't mean the entire UES wouldn't hear about the horror that was Cotillion via Gossip Girl—or at least all the high schoolers would hear about it.

Blair heard Jenny gasp. The rustling had stopped.

"Don't check Gossip Girl!" she screeched, snatching the phone from Jenny's hands and lobbing it across the room. "Fix my dress!"

Jenny's big blue eyes bugged out at her. "But Blair—"

"No talking!" Blair cried hysterically. "Just sew before my dress completely falls off—I wouldn't be surprised if it did, the way this night has turned out—"

"Blair—I think—"

"Do you want to be off the hook or not?!" Blair shrieked. "I told you you'll be off probation if you fix my dress—so fix it!"

"But Blair—the fight—you should really—"

"I don't care what Gossip Bitch is writing about me!" she exclaimed angrily. Blair took a deep breath, trying to control herself. She leaned down, face to face with Jenny. "And you shouldn't either." The younger girl was frozen, her hair falling down from its pins, her upper lip sweaty. Blair gave her an icy glare. "So fix my fucking dress or get the fuck out of my face," she said coldly. She straightened. "Because I don't need a freshman telling me what to do."

Jenny meekly ducked down into her sewing kit and started working on the train again.

Blair raised her chin. She was still Queen, no matter what Gossip Girl said. Now was not the time for freshmen to think they could order her around—especially one so close to the edge of her good graces.

She wouldn't let this stupid, embarrassing, horrible night get in her way. She'd show Gossip Girl. She's show them all. She wasn't a plaything. She'd chosen Chuck Bass and goddamnit she wouldn't let anyone laugh at her for being delusional. They didn't know him like she did. They didn't…

She swallowed, holding back the tears. They didn't know. But she sure as fucking hell hoped she did. Because if she was wrong…she honestly didn't know what she would do.

* * *

tbc


	11. Transformed Love of the Fallen

A/N: So, here's the final chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Transformed – Love of the Fallen**

**

* * *

**

_I know beginnings,  
their sweetnesses,  
and endings,  
their bitternesses--  
but I do not know  
continuance--  
I do not know  
the sweet demi-boredom…  
of the hand-in-hand dreams  
of those who have slept  
a half-century together  
in a bed so used and familiar  
it is rutted  
with love._

_I would know that  
before this life closes…_

_Muse, I surrender  
to thee.  
Thy will be done,  
not mine._

—Erica Jong, "Love Spell: Against Endings"

* * *

Shit shit shit. Had those words really just come out of his mouth?

Nathaniel was gaping at him, limp in his restrainers' arms, the fight completely out him, the dumbstruck look on his face matching almost the entire crowd.

The mob pressed in around them, silent, waiting for the next words out his mouth, trying to tell itself that no, it didn't mishear; Chuck Bass—womanizer extraordinaire—had in fact just said what it thought he'd said.

His ears were ringing with the silence, his heart pounding at the words that had burst from his mouth. He was a little unnerved under the gaze of so many onlookers.

Chuck hadn't meant to blurt it like that. It had just…come out.

And it was true. God, he didn't know how or when or what the fuck had happened to him, but it was true.

It felt so natural saying it; he knew he had to keep going. Especially since Nate was staring at him, waiting for clarification, and finally ready to listen and not shout. He'd already gotten this far, hadn't he?

"Blair isn't just another girl," Chuck said hoarsely. "I'm in love with her."

The crowd buzzed at the confession but Chuck's eyes were focused on his best friend. Nate looked frozen, completely thunderstruck. Chuck knew that this wasn't what his friend had been anticipating: Nate had expected to find Blair a victim of Chuck's charming, if sleazy, womanizing ways—or hoped that yeah, they'd slept together, but they'd both been incredibly drunk and it had been a one time thing and was a mistake and never to be repeated, and they had decided to put it behind them and beg for Nate's forgiveness and go back to being Chuck and Nate: BestFriends and Nair: TheGoldenCouple.

Chuck knew his best friend; Nate had never imagined that Chuck would claim to be Blair's boyfriend—claim that he loved her.

But he did. He loved her. It was both horrible and wonderful to say it, admit it. Horrible because the entire UES was watching; horrible because Nate was staring at him in disbelief; horrible because Blair wasn't there to hear him and he didn't know anything about love and he was scared shitless about what she made him feel; it was horrible because everything was happening so fast and he hardly recognized himself and the one thing he'd ever feared was looking like a powerless fool. And love certainly zapped the power, the control of the situation, out of him. But it was wonderful, too. It was wonderful because he'd never said those words before; they were finally true and it felt so incredibly good to say them.

He was flying in the face of all he'd done before, proving everyone's expectations wrong: Chuck Bass did, in fact, have a heart. One that burned.

His fight with Blair on Friday came back to him: her narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks and that golden love pin glinting in her hand. In the heat of the moment she'd questioned whether he could understand something as intimate and real as love. Chuck Bass had a harem of whores at his beck and call; Chuck Bass lived for himself and himself alone; Chuck Bass was a playboy and a womanizer and a scheming scumbag. What did someone like him know about love? Absolutely nothing.

When she'd shouted those words at him, his stomach had dropped. Was that really what she thought of him? Did she still really see him that way? Even after her birthday party and Thanksgiving and all that had followed?

It was true that the ChuckBass of a month ago didn't know much about love, but the Chuck of today was learning so fast it made his head spin. Even though it was early to be talking about love, to be thinking about love—God, they'd been together a _month_—he did in fact know what it felt like. Chuck hadn't been sure he ever would know, would ever want to know, but he did. The sensation was foreign, but impossible to miss; whenever Blair entered a room, or smiled, or met his eyes…he knew.

He wanted her and only her. He wanted the best for her. He wanted to make her smile and exceed her expectations and be there when she needed him. He wanted her to trust him and for them to be able to talk about anything and everything. He would protect her and dry her tears and make love to her until she was sick of him. He wanted to be better than he was, just for her. He loved her.

This was no joke. Nate knew it. And Chuck could see that he knew it.

He swallowed. "Nathaniel," he said quietly, "it happened really fast. I didn't plan on… I didn't know that it would be like this…" He tried to find the words. "We tried to tell you—We wanted you to be the first to know, but…" He shook his head. Nate just continued to stare at him. "I never meant to hurt you," Chuck said. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

The crowd's murmuring increased. This was almost more astonishing than his previous claim about Blair Waldorf. Chuck Bass was apologizing? Was such a thing even possible? Chuck Bass had never apologized about anything before in his life—why should he have? He didn't give a damn about anything except money, the pleasures money brought him, and…his friendship with Nate. Everyone knew that. He'd never had a reason to apologize before: The Devil may care but Chuck Bass never had.

But now, apparently a fourth thing had been added to that list of Things Chuck Bass Cared About: Blair Waldorf. It was a hard concept for the crowd to digest.

Chuck didn't know what else to say. Nate hadn't moved, wasn't drawing breath to speak. Nate just stared at him, his torn sleeve dangling from his jacket by a few threads. The situation would have been comical if they hadn't just been shouting at each other, and if Chuck's eye didn't hurt so much from Nate's fist. And if he hadn't just admitted his love for Blair in front of almost the entire UES.

The crowd had quieted in anticipation for more, and the hush of the ballroom was eerie. Chuck knew it was over. He straightened his jacket and nodded to the Mistress of Ceremonies.

"I'm sorry we disrupted the ball," he said calmly. "I'll see myself out."

Turning toward the stairs, the crowd parted for him. His couture-clad classmates, their Botox-injected mothers and Wall Street fathers, the Dispensary Cotillion and Debutante Ball committee members, kids from other UES private prep schools…they murmured as he passed by.

He knew his reputation was in tatters, worse than even when he'd claimed to be Blair's boyfriend. Some, no doubt, had at first thought him committing another scandalous Chuck Bass crime: banging his best friend's girlfriend. Their scathing sneers or awestruck wonder had faltered when he'd burst out with the 'L' word—no one, high schoolers in particular, bandied that word around lightly, especially on the Upper East Side. Chuck Bass was soft, or a fool, or had been duped. He was diabolical, or still scheming; just an asshole, or flying too close to the sun. He was inebriated, or this was an elaborate bet, or he was insane. No way was he a lovesick puppy, surrendering his control and admitting his heart in front of all who could hear. He was either incredibly stupid, or actually, against all odds, _in love_…

Chuck didn't care what they thought. But he knew the night was unsalvageable and he just wanted to leave. He couldn't continue to stare at Nate's frozen face. He couldn't stand there, the object of everyone's curiosity. He knew Gossip Girl and rumors and retellings of this would be bandied about for weeks to come. He didn't even want to think about what Blair would do when she heard what had happened… He just had to get away.

"Chuck," Nate rasped.

He paused, looking back over his shoulder.

His best friend still stood there, a strange look on his face. "I—I've never heard you say that," Nate said. "About anyone."

Chuck didn't know what to say. It was true. He knew it, and Nate knew it. He simply shrugged, then turned, and walked away.

* * *

Blair huffed. This was taking too long and she was too tired. What was the point of even having Jenny working on her dress like this? Cotillion was already ruined. It wasn't like she was about to go back upstairs to the ballroom and carry on with a smile as if nothing had happened. All she wanted was to just go home, but Blair knew that she should probably hunt down Chuck wherever he'd ended up disappearing to and stick to him like a glue—like a real girlfriend.

Actually, all she really wanted was to just forget this night ever happened. But chances of that looked dim, if all those pictures the crowd had been taking of the fight when Serena and Blair had pushed through were anything to go by. God, Gossip Girl probably wouldn't shut up about this for weeks. And Iz and Kati would continue to simper and smirk and text away on their phones. And she'd probably receive vulgar comments in the hallways and pass by giggling sophomores who pointed at her when they thought she wasn't looking, her status as Queen be damned.

But all the talk would really mean nothing if only Chuck stayed by her side. He'd never been a boyfriend before, as he'd jokingly told her earlier in his suite. And while that admission had been cute at the time, it also meant that _he'd never been a boyfriend before._ He didn't know what to do.

Sure he'd wanted them to be public—so had she—but _this_ public?

She didn't know what she'd do if he turned his back on her. She knew he wouldn't—but if he did… Blair couldn't keep doing this will-they-won't-they/stop-go/yes-no/love-hate routine. It made her dizzy: dancing around each other, sneaking around for weeks, making out and then fighting on Friday, almost-apologies and jumped conclusions on Saturday, and resolutions about their relationship and Nate finding out—and severely testing said relationship—today. The ups and downs were too much. She almost wouldn't blame Chuck if he did walk away. This was hard, harder than any other relationship Blair had ever observed (in real life—_Roman Holiday_ didn't count). And it being Chuck's first…

Blair didn't want to let him go. But if he broke up with her, she couldn't chase him. She didn't think she had the strength to.

But God, she didn't want him to break up with her! Blair tried to blink back the tears that burned in her eyes. They had so much—so much potential. She'd felt it the first time they'd kissed in his limo. She'd felt it during her birthday party, and during Thanksgiving, and all the time spent sneaking around since then. What she had with Chuck was deeper and harder and sharper and more wonderful than anything she'd ever had with Nate—her stomach flew, their bodies fit together perfectly, and the sparks were blinding. And they'd barely been seeing each other a month!

Maybe it was the fact that she and Chuck had known each other for so long. Or maybe it was because they were so different, and yet so similar. He was from the underworld; she was at the pinnacle of the high school social structure. He whored and smoked and drank and partied and knew everything there was to know about those shadowy secrets of pleasure; she was refined, poised, and virginal (until recently). And yet they both schemed to get their way; they ruled over others and had minions to do their dirty work. They were both selfish and passionate. They both had disappointing parents. They both wanted…love. (She couldn't think about that word in connection to Chuck without her heart fluttering—and she couldn't let herself think about what that meant, not now. Not so soon. Not when she didn't know what was happening upstairs.)

As Jenny worked on fixing her train, Blair tried not to think about how much she'd miss Chuck if he left her. God, she didn't even care about her stupid dress anymore. All she wanted to do was rip it from Jenny's hands and sprint back up those stairs, give Nate a good slap, grab Chuck's face and kiss him in front of everyone. Claiming him and proud of it.

It was daring. It was rather undignified. It was romantic. It gave Blair the shivers just imagining it.

"Blair!" a voiced called, snapping Blair out of her thoughts. Serena was speeding down the stairs, gripping her long skirt above her knees.

"Thanks for abandoning me, S," Blair said crossly, as Serena reached the bottom of the steps. She crossed her arms. "You pull me out of that crowd and then you disappear? The only moral support I've gotten is Jenny's, which is sadly lacking, I can tell you. I suppose Kati and Iz were only too delighted to—"

"Blair, shut up!" Serena exclaimed, reaching her friend.

Blair's jaw dropped at Serena's words. "_Excuse_ me—"

"Where's your phone?" Serena asked, cutting her off. She was out of breath, her ponytail swinging as her eyes flickered around, searching for a sign of Blair's cell. "Haven't you—"

"In my purse," Blair replied snottily, smoothing her skirt. Of course it was in her purse, and that purse was safely tucked away in the coat check room. "I don't carry it around with me. I'm _supposed _to be dancing, you know—"

"What?!" Serena cried. She grabbed Blair's arm, crushing the detached bow on Blair's shoulder between them. "You haven't—!? Oh my God, Jenny! Has she—!?"

"She hasn't," Jenny replied in a grave voice, putting down her needle.

"Haven't what?" Blair asked, looking between the two other girls. What had Serena in such a state? Did they know something she didn't? She frowned. "Serena, what are you talking about?"

"Oh my God!" Serena moaned again. "Do you have a phone? Why haven't you checked Gossip Girl?"

"I _told_ you. I don't have my ph—"

"I have mine!" Jenny piped up from her spot on the floor. "I tried to tell her before but she just threw it across the room." She started to stand.

"Don't get up!" Blair cried, grabbing Jenny's shoulder and forcing her back to the floor. "You're supposed to fixing my dress!"

"Blair! Let her go!" Serena cried.

"But Blair," Jenny said. "You really should—"

"Probation!" Blair shrieked. "My dress!"

"Blair! You won't care about your dress once you see Gossip Girl," Serena said, dashing toward the phone on the floor.

This was not what she needed right now. Blair was pretty sure what would be on Gossip Girl—Fall of the Queen, Secrets Revealed, blah blah blah. She had more important things to worry about than what Gossip Girl was blogging about—like whether Chuck was rethinking their plan to go public.

"Why would I care about anything that Gossip Bitch is writing about me right now?" Blair asked stonily. She gritted her teeth. "I really don't need this, Serena—"

"Yes, you do," Serena insisted, shoving the phone into Blair's hands.

"No, I don't," Blair said, trying to push the phone back at Serena.

"Blair! Just look at it!" Serena cried.

Blair glared at her and snapped Jenny's phone open with an aggravated sigh.

**So many have sent this in, it **_**must**_** be directly from the Basstard's mouth. First they're boyfriend and girlfriend****—****and now this! You won't believe it till you see it; I certainly didn't. There's really only one question: However did B manage to hook this Bass? It must have been one hell of a hook-up to keep C coming back for more—and inspired this much devotion to his Queen. I definitely plan on finding out what went down, but I need your help. Send me the deets and I'll share the **_**love**_**, and not just with B and C. XOXO. You know you love me, Gossip Girl.**

Frowning, Blair scrolled down to the video window in the Gossip Girl post and pushed play.

The camera, obviously from a cell phone, shakily focused on Chuck, dressed in his Cotillion tux. From what Blair could see, the background was the ballroom, and the crowd surrounding the fight, upstairs. Chuck was looking at something off screen. Blair realized it must have been Nate. The crowd behind him and around the camera holder was quiet in expectation.

There was a determined set to Chuck's jaw. He opened his mouth. "Blair isn't just another girl," he said hoarsely. There was a slight pause. His eyes flashed. "I'm in love with her."

Blair's brain buzzed along with the crowd, barely hearing Jenny gasp beside her. The holder had obviously moved in disbelief or wonder, too, since the camera got shakier. But Blair hardly noticed. She blinked.

Love? He was…

She looked up at Serena, who was staring at her, a watery smile on her face.

"Blair," she breathed, shaking her head in wonder.

"Serena," Blair croaked. "He…" She seemed to have lost her voice.

"I know."

Blair's fingers must have slackened, because she vaguely heard the phone fall to the floor. She swayed. The grip Serena had on her arm tightened.

Blair stared at her friend's face, but barely saw her. His words were repeating in her brain. Was it even possible? Was it real? It must be, she realized. Serena had been upstairs. She'd probably been there… Had heard it for herself…

Blair was halfway up the staircase before she realized she'd even moved. There were people coming down toward her and all she wanted was to bypass them so she could reach Chuck upstairs. It was only when she heard Serena's voice telling her that Chuck had left the ballroom, had headed down another set of stairs, probably to the doors, that Blair came to her senses. She turned around quickly and ran back down the steps, heading across the level to the next flight of stairs leading down, the extra long staircase with the landing in the middle, which they had all climbed during their Debutante presentation.

"Blair!" she heard Jenny call. "Your dress!"

But Blair didn't care. She felt the pins come undone and her train flopping behind her on the ground. Stumbling a bit, she grabbed her skirt and lifted it to her knees as she started down the steps, her stride barely faltering. She didn't care if her train even completely detached, as she'd dreaded before. She didn't care if her dress fell apart, or if her hair fell down, or if her feet got blisters from running in these heels. She didn't care about anything except finding Chuck.

Chuck. He loved her. He was in love with her. He'd said so; he'd told Nate. Everyone had heard.

She didn't know how they'd gone so fast: from hook up, to like, to boyfriend and girlfriend—to love. She didn't care. Because as soon as she'd heard the words part from his mouth, her answer had been waiting to burst from her own lips. She had to find him. She had to…

She scanned the floor below as she ran down the steps, searching for a sign of him.

His words echoed with each step she took.

She reached the landing between the two long staircases and finally spied his figure almost at the doors downstairs.

"Chuck!" she cried, in a desperate attempt to keep him from going anywhere.

He heard her, she could tell. He looked back up at her as she hurried down, and it was as if the movie of her life that she'd always been striving for—the perfect, classic, romantic setting and situation and climax—was suddenly, incredibly, vividly true. All those times before when she'd pretended and yearned and planned everything out to follow the script in her head, it had always been hard. It had never gone to plan; something had always not quite fit. But this was effortless; this was easy. His right eye was a little swollen, his bow tie crooked, her dress was in tatters, but it didn't matter—it only added to the charm and magic of the scene. Honestly, she wasn't even aware of how she looked, or who was watching; she wasn't vaguely thinking about how she'd tell this story later, embellishing the anecdote to make it shinier or funnier or more romantic. There was no need for exaggeration of any kind. It would have been impossible to improve in any case; it glowed.

She artlessly floated down the stairs, barely aware of her feet, just seeing his face, his dark eyes burning into hers. Time seemed to have slowed, but all she wanted was for it to speed up, so she could finally be in his arms. Blair's heart was pounding and she knew she was crying, she could feel the tears on her cheeks, but she was smiling. She was happy. It was perfect and he was staring at her as she approached, and she could barely keep the words in.

She reached him and threw her arms around his neck, completely oblivious of the onlookers peering down at them from the balconies and the top of the stairs she'd run down.

Their chests pressed together, she knew he could feel her heart fluttering, just as she felt his. She trembled in his arms as they encircled her.

"Blair," he said softly, pulling back. "Don't cry." He lifted his hand and gently wiped her cheek. "We can fix your dress."

Blair tightened her grip around his neck, wanting to laugh. But she couldn't. She was out of breath. She looked at him, a fierce, bright expression on her face.

She wasn't apologetic. She was burning with feeling. She knew his words meant so much more than they ever had when Nate had said them to her. And she knew the words she was about to say meant everything to him.

"I love you, too," she said.

He stilled in her arms, frozen, their eyes locked together. But Blair was smiling and pressed against him and no one had ever said those words to him before and he knew she meant them and he hadn't even realized she'd heard what he'd said—if she'd been in the room, or heard from someone else. But he didn't care how she had heard. It didn't matter because she'd repeated those words back to him and she was smiling and he was smiling and he felt so good and he loved her and she loved him back. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, matching his own. The butterflies were dancing in his stomach and he wanted to laugh and spin her around in a very un-Chuck-Bass-like spurt of giddiness, but Blair's hands were burying themselves in his hair and she was already leaning toward him and he knew what she wanted.

Their lips met in a kiss.

In that kiss was all the darkness and deepness of the royal couple: their passion and yearning. Their blossoming love and relationship were clear for all to see. Just in case anyone had missed Chuck's declaration upstairs in the ballroom, this would set them straight. The crowd gaped down at the couple entwined in each other's arms.

The video of that kiss, recorded on multiple cell phones at the time, was posted a few minutes later on Gossip Girl's website, and was to receive, in the next few days, the highest number of hits of anything Gossip Girl had ever posted.

From the top of the stairs, Serena smiled at their happiness, pleased that they had found each other (and also that she didn't have to keep their secret any longer, now that they were public). Jenny blushed at the display, still a little astonished that the two were together (and so serious about each other). Nate resigned himself, knowing that what his ex-girlfriend and best friend had was stronger and realer than anything he had ever had with Blair (the look on Chuck's face when he'd voiced his feelings for all to hear had been enough, but that kiss really cinched it).

Physically, formally, and publically, that kiss loudly declared the love and unwavering devotion of Blair and Chuck. Many had thought such characteristics to be inconceivable in either of the pair. But Chuck and Blair knew how to prove friends, teachers, underlings, parents, society, and Gossip Girl, wrong. They weren't King and Queen for nothing, after all.

* * *

fin


End file.
